Chasing the Rainbow's End
by Chelles
Summary: How do you win the heart of a man who refuses to show it? Sequel to Fairytales.
1. Prologue

A/N: Thanks for reading my story! This is the beginning of the second part of the "series" that I began with _Fairytales_; I'd suggest reading that story before starting on this one.

Thanks as always for reading, and for reviewing. I love to read your thoughts on what I write!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Prologue_

Gil Grissom loved the beach. He was sure that he always had loved it, even though his mother insisted that as a baby he had been terrified of the crashing waves. He doubted that; but if it were true, it didn't matter. What did babies know, anyway?

The beach had always provided him with an entertaining escape from the real world. While only nine years old, he could recognize the value of leaving one's worries behind even for a few hours. During the past few weeks, he had grown to appreciate his escape more than ever.

He went to the beach to escape from the neighbors and family members who came bearing dishes of food and boxes of Kleenexes. He went to the beach to escape the flowers and plants. He went to the beach to escape the sad smiles and tears.

More than anything else, he went to the beach to escape _her_ sad smiles and tears.

Two months ago, he had been sure that he had never seen his mother cry. He had seen her laugh, he had seen her smile, he had seen her frown and he had heard her yell, but he had never seen her cry. But, now … During the past few weeks, it was all he had seen.

He reached the boardwalk that separated the beach from the road and kicked off his shoes. He bent down to pick them up before starting across the sand toward the water's edge.

He reached his destination and stood still, letting the waves run up across his bare feet and back again, returning to the sea. He stared across the water, wondering why everything had to change.

They had always been so happy together, Gil and his parents. Then, things had started to change.

At first, it had been small. His mother had started talking a bit louder. She didn't seem to hear when he first called her. But, she was always smiling, always happy, so he didn't think anything of it. He knew that his father was worried, but he tried to hide it. _"Mom will see a doctor soon," _he had told Gil. _"She'll be fine, beetle bug. We don't have anything to worry about."_

But, Gil _did_ worry. He couldn't stop worrying. He didn't want anything to happen to his mother. She was hardly ever sick, and visits to the doctor were never a good sign.

As it turned out, he had been worried about the wrong parent.

It was still like something out of a movie or a tv show. One minute he had been sleeping peacefully, the next, he was jerked awake by his father's shouts and his mother's screams. He had run into the hallway to see his father lying facedown on the floor outside his parents' bedroom. His mother was on her knees beside him, begging him to look at her. Gil had run forward to help, but she had shooed him away. _"Go back to bed, Gil. Don't worry. Dad will be fine."_

He had gone back to bed, but he had been unable to sleep. He had huddled under the covers, listening as a neighbor came to help, as the paramedics came and took his parents to the hospital.

It was the last time he had seen his father alive.

He shook his head, trying to banish the memories. He came to the beach to forget that it had happened, not to relive it.

He started walking down the beach, searching for a distraction. He found his distraction – though perhaps not the one he would have chosen to find – in the form of a group of teenagers laughing as they threw big seashells and pieces of driftwood at the sand. He stepped closer to see what was going on, then stopped in horror at the sight before him.

The teenagers weren't throwing the shells and wood at the sand. They were throwing them at a seagull. The poor bird was too injured to fight back; it flapped its wings wildly as it struggled to get up from the ground.

Finally, it stopped struggling. The teenagers, losing interest, walked away. Finally breaking free of his horror-induced trance, Gil stepped forward.

He looked down at the motionless seagull, sighing. Even the seagull had to die.

Then, to his utter amazement, it tried to move. He gasped, realizing that its eyes were still open and bright. It was alive – it just needed someone to help it.

Temporarily forgetting the number of times that his parents had told him not to touch wounded animals, Gil stroked the seagull's feathers. It turned to look at him; he was sure that it was begging for his help.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "I'll take you to my house. My mom will help me make you better."

He slowly walked home, trying not to injure the bird even more. He walked through the front door, letting it bang shut behind him. A year ago, his mother would have scolded him for slamming the door. More recently, she didn't seem to notice.

"Mom!" he yelled. "Mom, where are you?"

Silence was his only response. He frowned slightly; she had told him when he left for the beach that she wasn't going anywhere.

"Mom!" he yelled again.

He wandered through the house, finally making his way into the kitchen, where she was sitting at the table, reading the paper.

"Mom," he said, relieved to have found her at last.

She didn't look up from her paper. He frowned again.

"Mom," he said louder. "Mom!"

She finally looked up and gave him one of her sad smiles. "Hi, Gil," she said loudly. She frowned slightly as she noticed the animal he was carrying. "What do you have?"

"A seagull," he said, looking down at the bird. "I found him on the beach. Some big kids were throwing things at him. He's hurt."

His mother grabbed his chin, forcing it up so that he was looking her in the eyes. "What?" she asked.

He repeated his statement, watching the way her eyes focused on his lips, almost as if she were reading them. But why would she …?

"Okay," she said at last. She sighed. "How many times have I told you not to touch wild animals?"

"But, he's hurt, Mom," he said, this time making sure that he didn't look away from her. "I couldn't just leave him all alone to die."

"Darling," she sighed, "I don't think there's anything we can do for him."

"But …" Gil protested, his lower lip beginning to tremble.

"All right," his mother said, getting up from the table. "We can try."

She found a box and an old blanket, which they used to make a bed for the bird. Gil tenderly laid him in his new nest, hoping that it would make him more comfortable.

"What else can we do?"

His mother shook her head. "Nothing, really. We can just make him comfortable and stay with him until he dies."

Tears filled Gil's eyes. "It's not fair!" he yelled. "Just because those stupid kids were throwing things at some defenseless bird, he has to die! He didn't do anything to deserve it!"

"No one deserves to die," his mother said, her own eyes filling with tears. "But, it's part of life. Everyone has to die at some point."

"But, those kids should be punished for what they did," he said, his tears escaping.

"They probably won't be."

"That's not fair, either!"

"No, it's not. But, in order for someone to be punished, someone else has to care enough to punish him or her."

"_I_ care," Gil said empathetically.

His mother smiled sadly again. "I know you do, darling. But, in this case, I don't think that a nine-year-old is going to be able to make much of a difference."

"It's –"

"I know," she stopped him. "It's not fair. But, Gil, you have to understand that life isn't always fair. People do terrible things and no one cares enough for them to be punished. People – people die and leave us. We just have to care enough, to love enough, to make a difference, and to make the good times the best part of life."

Gil nodded, and she hugged him close.

"I'm glad you care so much," she said. "Just – just don't let it consume you, okay?"

He nodded against her shoulder. "I love you, Mom," he whispered.

She didn't respond. He knew that it was because she couldn't hear him. He pulled back from her embrace, remembering the one thing that his grandmother had taught him before she had died when he was just a little boy. He looked down at his hand as he forced his fingers into the positions she had shown him. Thumb, index and pinky fingers extended, middle and ring fingers tucked down.

He looked up from his fingers to see the tears rolling down his mother's cheeks as she mirrored his gesture.


	2. Changes

Thank you all for your positive response to the first chapter! I'm having a great time with this story – I'm so glad you're enjoying it!

This chapter is a bit shorter than what I usually write, but I really liked where it ended, so I'm posting it. I hope that you agree that quality is better than quantity! I'll try to go back up to my usual standard in the next chapter.

I don't own CSI. Some lines in this chapter have been borrowed from episode 101, "Cool Change." As always, I will return them in a timely fashion.

* * *

_Changes_

"Hello?"

"Mary!" Sara was thrilled to hear her best friend's voice on the other end of the phone line. She had been worried that Mary would be in class, unable to answer her call. Sara knew that she wouldn't be able to sit on news like this for very long.

"Hi, Sara," Mary said cheerfully. "How are things going?"

"You are not going to believe what just happened!" Sara exclaimed. Forget answering any questions. For once in her life, she wanted to get to the point of a conversation.

"Try me," Mary replied.

"Grissom just called me."

"That's not so hard to believe," Mary laughed. "You are his friend. You do talk to him on occasion."

"Yeah, but the unbelievable part is what he said."

"Stop building suspense!" Mary laughed. "Just tell me what he said!"

Sara couldn't stop herself from pausing dramatically before spilling her news. So much for getting right to the point. "He asked me to move to Vegas to work with him."

"What?" Mary whispered.

"I know!" Sara shrieked. "Isn't it amazing?"

"He asked you to move to Vegas?" Mary asked.

"Yes!"

"What did you say?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

"You're moving to Vegas?" Mary exclaimed.

"Yes!"

"My God, Sara!" Mary exclaimed. "I can't believe it!"

Sara laughed. "I told you that you wouldn't be able to believe it."

"Well, you got that one right, crime scene investigator."

Sara giggled.

"Is that what you're going to do in Vegas? Work for the crime lab?"

"Yeah," Sara said. She sobered considerably. "Apparently, one of the girls on his team was shot yesterday."

"My God," Mary whispered. "Is she going to be all right?"

"When I talked to him, he said that they were taking her into surgery." She paused, and continued quietly, "It doesn't look good."

"Wow," Mary said softly.

"Yeah."

"And he wants you to replace her?"

"Sort of. She was shot on the job, so it's crucial that they find out what happened. He wants me to start by working part of the investigation into her shooting."

"Can he just hire you like that?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure of everything that happened, but apparently, this girl's shooting caused a shake-up that ended with Grissom running the graveyard shift. So, yes, he can make the hiring decisions at this point."

"Wow. That's a great promotion. He must be excited."

"I think he's still shocked, really," Sara said. "And, he's pretty upset about this girl."

"Well, I'd be upset if one of my coworkers had been shot, too."

Sara laughed, trying to snap them out of the darker side of the conversation. "You don't have coworkers, Miss PhD Candidate."

"I have a summer job," Mary smiled.

"Fair enough."

"So, you're really going to do this? You're really going to move to Las Vegas?"

"How can I turn him down?" Sara asked, her voice trembling slightly with emotion.

Mary paused. "Sara …"

"What?"

She paused again, trying to find the best way to phrase her thoughts. "Did he say anything that made you think this job offer is anything more than just that?"

Knowing exactly what she was getting at, Sara felt her face warming as she blushed, even though Mary wasn't there to see it. "He told me that he needs me."

"Needs you? Well, that's a bit ambiguous. In what sense does he need you?"

"I don't know," Sara moaned. "I don't even think that he knows."

"Okay. That could be a problem."

"Mary, do you always have to ruin my fun?"

"I'm just trying to be realistic," Mary replied. "I don't want you to go out there thinking that he's madly in love with you and hoping to marry you if that's not what he wants at all. If he just wants a coworker, then he just wants a coworker, Sara. You can't try to make this into more than it is."

Sara shook her head. "I won't."

"Sara …" Mary warned.

"I won't," Sara repeated, this time with conviction. She sighed. "You know what, Mary?"

"What?"

"When he left Berkley, he told me that he considered me a friend. We agreed to keep in touch because we didn't want to lose each other's friendship. And, right now, I can honestly say that that's what I'm most excited about – seeing my friend again." She smiled. "If I can't have you in town with me, at least I can have another friend."

"Sara, are you all right?"

Sara's eyes widened at the concern in Mary's voice. "I'm great," she said, a bit confused. "I'm moving to Las Vegas. I'm going to work with Grissom."

"I know, it's just …"

"Just what?"

"You sound lonely," Mary said simply.

Sara sighed. "I have been lonely for a very long time," she said. "But, for the first time since I moved back to San Francisco, I don't feel that way. This move is going to be good for me, Mar. I can feel it."

* * *

Grissom left Brass's office and walked slowly down the hall. His mind was still reeling with everything that had happened. Holly's shooting, his promotion, Sara coming to help out … it was too much to process in such a short stretch of time.

He looked into the break room, where Catherine, Warrick and Nick were talking. He could assume what they were discussing. Holly's shooting was all that anyone in the lab could talk about. He wasn't sure if what he had to say would add to their current conversation or create an entirely different discussion.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and entered the small room. It was time to face the music.

Their conversation ceased immediately as he walked into the room. Catherine looked at him for a moment, then turned away. Warrick's chin dropped to his chest. Nick looked at him as though searching for guidance. Without really realizing what he was doing, Grissom went to get a cup of coffee as he began recapping the information they already had. Warrick had left Holly alone at a crime scene, the suspect had returned, and she had been shot. Then, putting down the coffee pot, he began the hardest part of his monologue.

"The sheriff phone me early this morning," he said. "Brass has been moved back to homicide."

Catherine's head came up, her eyes wide. For the first time since he had walked into the break room, she looked at Grissom fully. Nick frowned at him.

"Who's going to run the unit?" he asked.

"For now," Grissom said, meeting Catherine's eyes, "me."

Catherine looked at him in complete shock. If they hadn't known each other for so long, if they hadn't been such good friends, he would have been offended by the look she gave him.

"I know," he said, still talking to Catherine. "We'll just play it by ear, okay?"

All of the horrible announcements over, he finally broke eye contact with Catherine. It was almost a relief to talk about the leaper whose body was lying in the morgue awaiting an autopsy.

Just when everything was going fine, he followed through with his plans to put Nick in charge of the investigation into Holly's shooting. Catherine finally broke out of her silence.

"Wait a minute. You can't give him the Holly case. All due respect, Nick … I want this one."

"Nicky is the only one who didn't have any personal contact with Holly. I don't want you on this, Catherine."

"Why?" she asked with tears in her eyes.

"Because you're emotionally involved."

All protests fell on deaf ears. Catherine snatched the assignment slip from Nick's hand, challenging Grissom to fire her if he didn't like it. Feeling disgusted and wondering where he had gone wrong, Grissom made a desperate attempt to calm tempers and smooth ruffled feathers. After begging his colleagues to stay calm and do their jobs, he dropped his final bombshell.

"As of now, we're short of help. So, I'm bringing in Sara Sidle to give us a hand."

"Sara Sidle?" Catherine asked. She gave him a look that said that she was searching her memory for where she had heard that name before.

"Who's that?" Warrick asked, finally finding his voice.

"She's a CSI out of San Francisco. She's a friend of mine, someone I trust. She's going to handle our internal investigation. I want to keep this in-house. I don't want IA involved."

"Great," Catherine said sarcastically. "That's just what we need – someone sniffing around."

She gave Grissom a pointed look, then left the break room. Knowing that it would take some time to win her over, Grissom asked Nick to work the leaper with him. Nick agreed, and followed Catherine out of the room.

Perhaps the hardest part of all was telling Warrick that he was still on leave. He begged to help, but didn't have the same conviction as Catherine. Maybe it was because he was still something of a newbie, maybe it was because he looked up to Grissom, or maybe it was because he knew that far too much of this was his fault. Whatever the reason, he didn't challenge Grissom's authority as Catherine had. He accepted his fate, and silently listened to Grissom's advice to get his story straight before Sara's arrival.

Thinking that the worst of his day was over, Grissom left the break room and went to his office. He needed to get his field kit before heading out with Nick.

He opened his office door to find Catherine standing inside, waiting for him.

"_Sara_ _Sidle_?"

"What about her?"

"From the minute you said her name, I've been trying to remember where I've heard it before. It wasn't until I had left the room that I realized who she is. She's your student, isn't she? The one from your Berkley seminar? The one you email all the time? The one you helped get the job in San Francisco?"

"Yes," Grissom said simply. "This wasn't supposed to be a secret, Catherine. I told everyone that she's a friend of mine – she is. I said that she's someone I trust – she is. I said that I want her to handle our internal investigation – I do. I'm not trying to hide anything here."

"I beg to differ."

"Excuse me?"

She looked at him for a moment, then finally exploded with what she had been dying to say ever since he had walked into the office. "Have you lost your mind?"

"What?" Grissom asked defensively.

"Gil. You and Sara have a past. A history."

Grissom looked at Catherine as though she had lost her own mind. "She was my student during a seminar. We became friends, and we've kept in touch. What kind of a 'past' are you talking about?"

"Gil, please! We've talked about this before. You know where I stand on this."

"I know that I've told you that she's my friend."

"I know that _I_ told _you_ that you should be careful with her," Catherine replied.

"I have been," Grissom said. "I'm sure that she understands what our relationship is and where it ends." He looked at her in confusion. "You and I have worked together for years without anything other than collegiality and friendship between us. Why are you so determined to believe that there's anything other than that between Sara and me?"

She sighed. "I don't know. Honestly, I don't have a good answer for you. Call it years of reading people. Better yet, call it years of reading _you_. There's just something that's telling me that there's more to this than you're willing to admit – to me, or, more likely, to yourself."

"Well, this time, you're way off on your observation," he said. "Sara is just a friend, she's coming here for the internal investigation, and she's going to be a member of our team – at least for now. That's the end of the story. If you want more than that, start watching daytime tv."

Catherine shook her head. "If you say so … I don't have any reason not to believe you."

Grissom smiled. "Cath, she's not going to take your place. She's a CSI on my team; you're my second in command. She's been my friend for two years; you've been my best friend for fifteen." He smiled and touched her arm. "You're nosy and you love to meddle in my business, but you're an excellent CSI and an incredible friend. You're my best girl, and you always will be."

She laughed. "Well, that's completely untrue – at least that last part. But, thank you for saying it. I really needed to hear it."

He smiled. "I need to go meet Nicky. Are we okay?"

"Always," she smiled.

They walked out into the hall together and started to go in their separate directions. Grissom stopped and turned to look at her retreating back.

"Catherine?"

She stopped and turned to face him. "Yeah?"

He paused and licked his lips. "You should have been the one to get this promotion. Not me."

She shook her head. "You deserve it, Gil. And, I'll always be right here, ready to back you up."

He smiled. "Thank you."

She shook her head. "Thank _you_."

* * *

Five hundred miles away, Sara Sidle methodically packed her suitcase. She had a plane to catch. She had a new life to begin. 


	3. The New Team

A/N: Thank you again for your wonderful response to this story! Your reviews make writing these chapters that much more fun.

I don't own CSI. Once again, some lines have been borrowed from my new favorite episode, "Cool Change." With any luck, I'll never have to write that again!

* * *

_The New Team_

"So, when does your flight leave?"

"I have to board in a few minutes," Sara replied. "God, Mar, I'm so nervous."

"Nervous?" Mary laughed. "I thought you were excited."

"I am," Sara replied. "But, I'm nervous, too."

"Look, Sara, I know that I've tried really hard to be your voice of reason in all of this –"

"You mean you've tried really hard to bring me down," Sara interrupted with a laugh.

"Well, maybe," Mary laughed. "But, honestly, I really, really hope this goes well for you. I hope that everything works out as you want it to."

"So do I," Sara sighed. She paused and listened to the announcements the gate agents were making. "Listen, Mary, they're boarding the first class passengers, and I'm in the back of the plane, so I'm next to board. I've got to go."

"All right," Mary said. "Have a nice flight. Call me when you get to Vegas."

"I will."

"Good luck."

"Thanks," Sara smiled. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Sara closed her cell phone and turned it off, then stored it safely in her purse. She picked up her carry on bag and stood to her feet just as her row was called. Boarding pass in hand, she stepped forward, ready to begin her new adventure.

* * *

"Hi," Grissom said to the receptionist at the Hotel Monaco. "My name is Gil Grissom and this is Nick Stokes. We're with the crime lab. May we ask you a few questions?"

"Is this about that guy they found outside?" she asked. "The one who jumped from the balcony?"

"Well, we don't know for sure yet that's what happened," Grissom said.

She nodded. "I'm glad you don't think he jumped. I don't, either."

Grissom and Nick exchanged a look.

"Why not?" Nick asked.

"If you ask me," she lowered her voice conspiratorially, "it was his girlfriend. She pushed him."

"His girlfriend?" Nick repeated.

"Yeah," the girl said. "She was awfully loud – she just seemed a bit off, you know? Believe me, if you work in one of these hotels, you get pretty good at identifying crazy people – and she's crazy. Are you holding her now?"

"We're still collecting evidence," Grissom said. "In fact, we were hoping that you could help us."

"Sure," she said, her eyes getting big.

"The victim was staying in the Presidential Suite, correct?"

"That's right."

"Is there a way to tell who entered and exited the room?"

"Well, we have a security log of every time the key is used to enter the room," she said. "Will that help?"

"Yes," Grissom smiled. "May we see that log?"

"I'll run you a copy right now."

She went to her computer, and Grissom looked at Nick.

"We need to bring our girlfriend in for a little chat."

Nick nodded. "I'll call Brass."

* * *

Sara's flight landed at McCarran International Airport without incident. No one was waiting to meet her, but then, she hadn't expected that anyone would be. She smiled inwardly, knowing very well that nothing would have made her happier than seeing Grissom as soon as she landed. But, she would be seeing quite a lot of him in the foreseeable future. She was content to wait.

She pulled out her phone as she made her way to baggage claim, and pressed the appropriate speed dial to talk to Mary. Her friend's phone was turned off, a sure sign that she was in class.

"Hi, Mary," Sara said to her voicemail. "I just landed in Vegas – I'm on my way to baggage claim right now. Once I have my bags, I'm going to the hotel to check in and then straight to the lab, so don't worry about calling me back. I'll give you a call when I have a free minute. Tell Tom hi for me." She paused, trying to think of anything else she had to say. "Um … I guess I'll talk to you later. Bye."

She snapped the phone shut and returned it to her purse just as the belt carrying luggage began to move. Her attention turned to finding her bag.

* * *

"Can I go now?"

Grissom smiled benignly at the young woman sitting across the table from him in the interrogation room. "Yes, ma'am."

The one suspect in the death of the young man found on the pavement outside the Hotel Monaco stood up and walked to the door. Nick opened it for her, giving Grissom a look as she walked past him.

"Her story checks out," Grissom said. "She doesn't have any financial motive. She was his girlfriend, not his wife. Any money won by the deceased goes directly to the family estate."

"Well, if he didn't fall from his own balcony, then where else could it have happened?" Nick asked.

Grissom looked at him for a moment. "The roof," he said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Nick's face relaxed into an expression that clearly said _why didn't I think of that?_

"We're going back to that hotel," Grissom said as they left the room. "We need to do a bit of experimentation."

"Simulation dummies?" Nick asked.

Grissom gave him a grin. "You read my mind."

* * *

After checking into her hotel room, Sara took a shower and prepared for a day of work. As much as she would never admit it, she did take her time curling her hair and choosing a flattering outfit. She wanted to impress her new coworkers. Cheeks flushing slightly, she knew that wasn't entirely the truth. She wanted to impress _him_.

After making sure that she had everything that she would need, she left her hotel room and drove her rental car to the crime lab. She made her way in slowly, hoping that it wouldn't be too hard to find Grissom.

"Hi," the receptionist said as she entered the building. "May I help you?"

"Hi," Sara replied. "I'm looking for Gil Grissom."

"And you are?"

"Sara Sidle."

"Oh, Sara Sidle!" Judy said warmly. "You're the one that Dr. Grissom brought in to work with us!"

"Yes," Sara said, smiling a bit uncomfortably.

"Well, Dr. Grissom is out in the field right now, but let me get you set up with some identification, then I'll send you out to find him."

"All right," Sara agreed, wondering at this woman's cheerfulness. It was a bit shocking.

Judy pulled a file folder from her desk and opened it. "I'll just need you to fill out a bit of paperwork, and then I'll need to take your picture for your badge."

"Right," Sara said. She had known that this was coming – she just wished it could have been after she had seen Grissom.

* * *

"All right, Nick," Grissom said into his walkie-talkie. "Standing by for Operation: Norman. Let them fly."

Safe within the confines of the crime scene tape outside the entrance to the Hotel Monaco, Grissom waited for Nick to launch the dummies off the hotel roof. The first dummy came tumbling through the air, delighting the tourists standing nearby. As it hit the ground, they burst into applause. Grissom raised his eyebrows and shook his head. Only in Vegas.

* * *

Grissom had no idea that the crowd contained the one person who had been practically jumping up and down at the prospect of seeing him. Sara made her way to the tape, watching him as he watched the dummies fall. She was as mesmerized as she had been during that first lecture at Berkley, when he had won her heart with his knowledge and passion. Seeing him work now only reaffirmed what she already knew: that this man would do anything in the pursuit of knowledge, truth and justice. Her heart did a back flip at the thought.

The officer standing nearest looked at her identification. "Do you want to go in, miss?"

"In a minute," she said. "I can wait until they're done. I don't want to get in the way."

Hoping that he didn't have that many dummies, she crossed her arms. Once again, she had to wait for her turn to talk to Grissom.

* * *

Once all three dummies had fallen to their respective dooms, Grissom, after shaking off the crowd of on-lookers, made his way around the enclosure, taking photographs and repeating the methods behind their falls.

"Norman pushed," he said, taking pictures. "Norman jumped." More photographs. "Norman fell."

"Wouldn't you, if you were married to Mrs. Roper?"

A grin spread across his face as he lowered his camera. "I don't even have to turn around. Sara Sidle."

He did turn around in time to see the ecstatic grin on her face as she lowered her sunglasses. She teased him about his "old-school" methods, but he could barely follow her words. He was caught up in watching the sparkle dance in her big, brown eyes and the sunlight reflect off her brown curls. He knew that he gave appropriate responses to her comments, but could only hope that he managed to look as cool and unaffected by her appearance as he wanted to.

Her grin faded as she asked her next question. "How's the girl?"

Grissom's face dropped. "She's still in surgery. She's not doing very well."

"That's too bad," Sara said, looking down.

"God, Sara, I have so many unanswered whys," Grissom said a bit desperately.

"There's only one 'why' that matters now," she said, looking up at him again. "Why did Warrick Brown leave that scene?"

Grissom gave a slight nod. "I'm trusting you with this, Sara," he said. "I need …" He trailed off.

"I know," she said quietly. "I'll find your answers."

"Thank you."

"Hey, Boss, how did we do?"

Grissom and Sara both looked up as Nick ducked under the crime scene tape. Grissom smiled at him.

"Our boy was pushed," Grissom said. "You did great, Nicky."

"Thanks," Nick said. He looked at Sara for a moment, then back at Grissom.

"Nick, this is Sara Sidle, the CSI I told you was coming in to help us."

"Oh, right!" Nick said, extending his hand to shake hers. "Nick Stokes. It's great to meet you."

"You, too," Sara said, finding it impossible not to return his grin. Nick seemed genuinely pleased to meet her; in those few words, he managed to make her feel very welcome.

"Nicky and I are working the mysterious death of a man who was found facedown right here," Grissom said. "After our simulation, I can say with complete certainty that he was pushed. Now all we need to do is to find the pusher."

"Well, the girlfriend is out," Nick said. He glanced at Sara. "Are you going to work the case with us?"

"No, she's on the internal investigation," Grissom said. "You need to talk to Catherine Willows, Sara. She's investigating Holly's death; you'll work with her on that while you look into everything else."

"Right," Sara agreed. "Any idea where I might find her?"

"Try the lab," Grissom said. "I know she was out in the field earlier, but she should be back by now."

"All right," Sara said. "I guess I'll see both of you later, then."

"I'll find you when I get a chance," Grissom promised. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Sara said. "Bye, Grissom. Bye, Nick. It was nice meeting you."

"You, too," Nick said. "I hope we'll get to work together soon."

Sara smiled again and ducked back under the tape. It was time to return to the lab.

* * *

"She seems nice," Nick said as Sara left.

"She is nice," Grissom affirmed.

"Is she going to work with us permanently?"

"That depends," Grissom replied. He didn't say the words, but he knew that Nick understood that Sara's employment depended upon the outcome of Holly's surgery. "She's with us for now."

"Right," Nick said slowly.

"I want you to work with her," Grissom said suddenly. "I think you'd work well together, and I think you'd be good for each other."

Nick gave him a sidelong glance. "You're not trying to play matchmaker, are you, Grissom?"

Grissom scrunched up his face. "_Honestly_, Nicky. I meant professionally."

Nick laughed slightly, his face slowly turning red. "Right."

Grissom laughed. "Keep your mind on the job, Nick."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

"Have you seen Catherine Willows?"

Judy frowned in concentration. "Well, I can definitely tell you she's in the lab somewhere," she informed Sara. "I'm not sure where, though. Do you want me to page her?"

Sara shook her head. "That's all right. I'll find her myself."

"All right. Good luck."

"Thanks," Sara smiled.

After about ten minutes of wandering around the lab, she began to doubt the intelligence of volunteering to find Catherine without help. The lab was something of a maze; she was sure she would never find her new coworker.

"Can I help you? You look lost."

"Yes!" Sara exclaimed, thrilled that this lab tech with the loud shirt was so helpful. "I'm looking for Catherine Willows. Do you know where she is?"

"Yes."

When he made no effort to continue, Sara gave him a look. Finally realizing that he would need verbal prompting, she sighed. "Will you tell me where she is?"

"That depends. Who's looking for her?"

"I am."

"And you are?"

She sighed again. "Sara Sidle."

"Ah!" he said, his eyes lighting up. "Grissom's friend."

"Yes."

"You know, I didn't think that Grissom had any friends – well, at least, none outside the lab. I mean, I know that he's friends with Catherine and Brass and –"

"Aren't you going to tell me where Catherine is?" Sara interrupted.

"Don't you want to know who's telling you?"

She barely refrained from closing her eyes in annoyance. "Fine. Who's telling me?"

"Greg Sanders," he said, offering a hand for her to shake.

"Hi, Greg Sanders," she said, shaking his hand. As frustrating as this entire situation was, she had to admit that he was amusing. "What is your job here?"

"Lab tech," he said promptly. "I mainly do DNA, but I occasionally dabble in Trace."

"Good for you."

"And you're the new CSI, right?"

"For now."

"Right." Greg wanted to say that he hoped that she'd stay – she was hot – but that would imply that he hoped for Holly's death. It seemed wiser to keep his mouth shut. He cleared his throat. "Well, Catherine is right in there," he said, indicating a closed door across the hall. "I believe she's working on some evidence."

"Great," Sara said with a smile. "Thanks for your help, Greg. It was nice meeting you."

"It was great to meet you, too," he smiled.

Sara crossed the hall and pushed the closed door open. One woman sat in the room alone, working at the desk. Deciding to be diplomatic rather than pushy, Sara asked, "Do you know where I can find Catherine Willows?"

"She's out in the field," the other woman replied, without looking up.

Sara half-turned back toward the door as if going to question Greg again, then looked down at the notebook in her hands as if it might offer some assistance. The woman at the desk finally looked up from her work and sighed.

"Let me guess. Sara Sidle?"

"I know who I am," Sara said with a slight smile. "I think you're a little confused."

"If you think you're taking my case," Catherine said threateningly, "forget it."

Sara drew herself up at the clear challenge. So, Catherine felt threatened by her. Sara had spent so long thinking that this woman could be the thing standing between her and Grissom that it was almost a relief to learn that Catherine found Sara to be a threat – even if Catherine's perceived threat was professional rather than romantic. Thinking that she now had a rather easy situation on her hands, Sara walked fully into the room, shutting the door behind her.

"Look," she said, holding up her hands to fend off any caustic words from Catherine, "we can stand here and argue, or we can get out there and find out who did this to Holly Gribbs. Two sharp women are better than one."

Her words calmed Catherine, who picked up the pager she had collected at the crime scene. The two women worked together to trace the pages, only to find a road to nowhere.

"Look," Sara said at last, "you seem to have everything under control here. Where can I find Warrick Brown?"

"Try one of the casinos on Blue Diamond Road," Catherine offered.

Sara nodded and scribbled the information in her notebook as she walked toward the door.

"Oh," Catherine said as Sara opened the door. "I'll page you with any information."

Smiling, Sara stepped back out into the hallway.

"Sara!"

She smiled wider as Greg bounded up to her. "Hi, Greg."

"Listen, I need to tell you something."

"All right," she said, surprised by the seriousness in his tone.

He drew a deep breath. "I just saw Grissom. He's looking for you."

"Grissom? Is he here?"

"Yeah, he was going to his office – I'll take you there."

"Thanks," she said, knowing that she'd never find it on her own.

"There's something else you should know," Greg said as they set off down the hall together.

"What?"

"He looked – well, he looked awful."

The color drained from Sara's face. She had a feeling she knew why Grissom wanted to see her.

"I found her, Boss," Greg said as he led Sara into Grissom's office.

"Thanks, Greg," Grissom said quietly.

"I'll see you later," Sara said. "Thanks for showing me around."

"No problem," Greg replied

He left, closing the door behind him. Sara looked at Grissom, struggling to keep her attention focused on his face, rather than roving around his cluttered office.

"Holly's dad just called me," Grissom said, breaking the short silence. He swallowed. "She died on the operating table."

"Oh, God, Grissom," Sara said softly. "I'm so sorry."

Grissom nodded. "She was a tough girl. She really fought hard, but, in the end, it wasn't enough." He sighed and ran his hands over his face. "She didn't deserve this."

Fire jumped into Sara's eyes. "I'll find out what happened, Griss." Without thinking, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "Between Catherine and I, we'll make sure this guy is brought to justice."

Grissom returned the pressure on her hand. "I know you will. That's why I asked you to come here."

* * *

Filled with new determination, Sara set off in search of Warrick. She found him, as Catherine had suggested, playing cards at a casino on Blue Diamond Road. He was less than thrilled to see her, but willingly followed her to a diner for some coffee so they could talk.

He somewhat reluctantly admitted to counting cards when he played, and that he bet on sports. When Sara asked where he had gone when he left Holly, he gave her the rather flimsy excuse that he had gone for coffee. Sara challenged him, suggesting that he had been gambling, but he stuck to his coffee story. Yes, he knew the procedures for clearing a crime scene. Even so, he had gone for coffee.

"Did you log on?" she finally asked. "Tell dispatch where you were going?"

"Do you know how many times I been left alone at a crime scene when I was a rookie?" Warrick asked, barely controlling his anger.

"Yeah, well, this time it's different," Sara said.

"Yeah, why is that?" Warrick asked, running his hand over his face.

"Holly Gribbs died on the operating table twenty minutes ago."

The look on Warrick's face – the look of complete shock, pain, horror, sorrow and guilt – convinced Sara that he had never intended for any harm to befall Holly. However, that did nothing to change the fact that he had violated quite a few procedures in his rush to get a cup of coffee.

She couldn't help the sorrow that filled her as she left him at the diner. She hated what she had to do next. She hated what she had to write in her report. She hated that Grissom would have to read it.

* * *

In the end, it was the pager, which Sara had assumed to be their road to nowhere, that led them to Holly's killer. She and Catherine had been in the break room when it began beeping. Catherine, in a moment of what Sara thought of as foolish desperation, called the number that showed on the display. The pager's owner was on the other end of the line, trying to find his missing beeper. Catherine got his address, a room in a shady motel, and hung up.

"Did I just do that?" she asked in shock.

Sara grinned. She liked this woman.

* * *

The suspect had a nasty scratch on his face. Sara and Catherine were both sure that Holly had managed to scratch him before he shot her with her own gun. If they were right, his DNA would be beneath her fingernails – they needed that proof to convict him. That meant a trip to the morgue.

"Do you want me to do it?" Sara asked as they walked down the hall together.

"No," Catherine replied. "I need to do this."

Sara nodded silently.

They arrived in the morgue to find Grissom waiting for them.

"You didn't have to come," Catherine said, even though she felt better just knowing that he was there.

"I know," Grissom replied. "I wanted to … in case you need me."

"I probably do," Catherine admitted. "But, this is something I'd rather do alone."

"Fifteen seconds," Grissom said as she moved to open the door. "You're in, you're out. We make a DNA match and it's over, okay?"

Catherine nodded. "Okay," she whispered. She disappeared into the autopsy room.

Sara walked down the hall and stopped next to Grissom. "How are you holding up?"

"Pretty well," he replied. "You?"

She shrugged. "I didn't know her. You don't need to worry about me."

Grissom looked at her closely. "You can't tell me this hasn't affected you."

"It has," Sara admitted quietly. "But, nothing like it's done the rest of you."

"No, I suppose not." He paused. "This helps, though. Knowing that we've got him. Knowing that Holly managed to help us convict him. Knowing that her family will have peace because of what we – the team and Holly – managed to do together."

Sara smiled. "You've got a great team, Grissom."

"Thanks," he smiled. "I like them, too. I'll keep them."

* * *

"Gil, you've got to let Warrick Brown go."

Grissom rubbed his hand over his eyes.

"I know he's been on your team for a long time," the sheriff said. "I know that he's a good CSI. But, I read Sidle's report. He left the scene. He violated procedures. Because of that, another CSI is dead."

"I know," Grissom said quietly. He, too, had read Sara's report. He probably understood even more of it than the sheriff did. Where Sara had written "went to get coffee," Grissom read "went to lay a bet." He knew Warrick and his demons. He knew what had probably happened.

"We're in agreement, then?" the sheriff asked. "You'll let him go?"

"I'll deal with it," Grissom said sadly. "I have to interrogate a suspect in another case, then I'll find him."

"Good," the sheriff said, confident it would be handled.

Grissom left his office, feeling completely miserable.

* * *

Talking to Warrick was one of the hardest things he had ever done. Warrick admitted that he was wrong, admitted where he had been and handed his gun and badge to Grissom.

"You know what?" Grissom said, standing up, facing Warrick. "If I let you go, I have to let me go, too. And Catherine and Brass … we're all culpable in this. I don't care what the book says. I lost one good person today. I don't want to lose another. Here," he said, handing Warrick back his badge and gun.

Warrick looked at him in shock, standing up as he accepted the items. "I won't let you down again."

* * *

After leaving Warrick, Grissom continued toward his office. He glanced into the break room, where Sara was sitting chatting with Nick.

"Sara, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," she said, getting up from her seat.

"Come on, let's go into my office," Grissom said.

Sara nodded and followed him down the hall. "Nick was just telling me that you closed your case. It was the girlfriend after all."

Grissom smiled. "Never underestimate the rage of a woman scorned."

Sara rolled her eyes. "You're awfully critical of the 'woman scorned.'"

"More like wary," he smiled, ushering her into his office. "Listen, Sara, I feel awful about how I'm going to do this, but here it is. Holly is gone, and I need … I want you to stay here and work for the lab. Permanently."

"Permanently?" she asked with wide eyes. "You want me to replace Holly?"

"Yes," he said. "Will you? Will you join my team?"

She gave him a beaming smile. "I'd love to."

"Great," he replied, returning her grin. "Welcome to the graveyard shift of the Las Vegas Crime Lab."


	4. Making Friends

A/N: Thanks again for your wonderful response, and for reading this story thus far. I really do appreciate all your reviews, and I hope I can keep each chapter up to your expectations!

I don't own CSI. Some situational inspiration for this chapter came from episode 103, "Crate and Burial."

* * *

_Making Friends_

"So, have you met everyone?"

"I think so," Sara replied. "You, Nick, Catherine, Warrick, Greg …"

"Judy?" Grissom asked.

"Yes."

"Jackie?"

"Yes."

"Bobby?"

"Yes."

"Brass?"

Sara frowned. "Who's that?"

Grissom nodded. "Come on. We're going on a field trip."

"Where?" Sara asked, falling into step beside him.

"PD."

* * *

The trip to the police department didn't take long; it took longer to find Brass once they got there. In the end, Grissom paged him back to his own office.

"He's not usually in his office," Grissom explained as they sat down to wait. "He's always running somewhere."

"Now, he's a homicide detective, right?"

"Right."

"Is he the one who …?"

A pained expression surfaced for a moment in Grissom's eyes. "Yes."

Sara nodded, and fell silent.

"Well, well," Brass grinned as he entered his office, "the mad scientist comes to visit us over in homicide. To what do I owe the honor?"

Grissom returned his smile. "I brought someone over for you to meet."

"Oh, yeah?" Brass said, looking fully at Sara for the first time.

Grissom nodded. "Sara Sidle, Jim Brass."

"Hi," Sara said.

"Sara Sidle," Brass said, shaking her hand. "Gil's star student from the Berkley seminar."

Sara felt the heat rush to her face. "Oh, he …" She trailed off and looked at Grissom. "You _told_ people that?"

Grissom smiled. "Intelligence is not something to be ashamed of, Sara."

"Not at all," Brass said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sara."

"And you," she replied.

"You handled the internal investigation in the Holly case, right?"

"Right," Sara affirmed.

Brass nodded. "You did a great job."

"Thanks."

"She's going to stay with us," Grissom said. "She just accepted my offer of a job on graveyard."

"Well, then, you have my sincerest wishes for good luck," Brass grinned. "Have you met the crew you'll be working with?"

"I have," Sara replied.

Jim smiled. "They're good people, Sara. You'll like them."

"I already do," she smiled.

"Good. Well, welcome aboard. We'll take good care of you."

"Thanks," she said. She generally hated the implication that she needed someone to take care of her – she had been taking care of herself for most of her life, in her estimation. Yet, for some reason, she wasn't at all offended by Brass's comment. Strangely, it did just what it was supposed to do – it made her feel better.

"We should probably get back to CSI," Grissom said. "I just wanted you to meet Sara."

"I'm glad you came over," Brass smiled. "You are allowed to visit just because you feel like it, you know."

"We'll keep that in mind," Grissom said, leading Sara toward the door. "You can always swing by CSI for a visit, too."

"I'm there far too much already," Brass smiled. "It was nice to meet you, Sara."

"You, too," she replied with a smile of her own.

"I'm sure I'll remember someone else you haven't met yet later on," Grissom said as they walked down the hall. "But, I think you've met quite a few people at this point."

"It's going to take some time for me to learn their names," Sara said.

"I think they'll be very understanding."

* * *

"So, I hear you're going to stay with us in Vegas."

Sara looked up from her paper as Nick walked into the conference room. "So it would appear," she said, returning his grin.

"I'm glad," he said, sitting down next to her. He glanced at the newspaper she held. "Keeping up on current events?"

"Looking for an apartment," she replied. "I can't live in a hotel forever."

"Plenty of people in this town do."

"Yeah, well, I'm not a millionaire."

Nick grinned. "Want me to help you find the safe areas?"

"That would be great," Sara said with a smile.

"Hey, guys."

Sara and Nick smiled their greetings at Catherine and Warrick as they entered the room. Sara looked at Warrick a bit warily, but he barely acknowledged her. She sighed. She truly wanted to make an effort to befriend her new coworkers, but she knew that she had gotten off to a bad start with Warrick. Her suggestion that he should be fired for leaving a colleague alone at a scene had caused more than a little tension between them.

"Okay, everyone, let's get started," Grissom said as he walked through the door. "Nick, you and Sara are with me on a kidnapping case. We're going to have to move quickly on this one – the kidnapper left a ransom message with a short fuse."

"Right," Nick said as he and Sara looked at one another.

"Catherine, you and Warrick are taking a hit and run," Grissom said, giving Catherine an assignment slip.

"Got it," Catherine said. She smiled at Warrick. "Ready to go?"

"Yup," Warrick said. He gave Sara a pointed look as he followed Catherine out into the hallway.

Nick shifted in his seat. "Don't let it bother you," he said to Sara.

"Bother me? Why would it bother me?" she asked.

Nick shook his head. "He's just …"

"This is my fault," Sara said. "I'm the one who –"

"Did her job," Nick interrupted. "You did what was asked of you, Sara, and you shouldn't have to suffer for it."

She smiled. "You're a good guy, Nick."

He flushed slightly. "Thanks."

"Are you two ready to go?" Grissom asked from the doorway.

"Yeah," Nick said, standing up.

"Can I drive?" Sara asked.

Grissom shook his head with a smile. "If it makes you happy."

* * *

"You need to lay off."

Warrick looked at Nick with a frown. "What are you talking about?"

"Sara," Nick said, sitting down next to Warrick in the break room. "You need to give her a break."

"Sara," Warrick said slowly.

"She just did her job," Nick said. "Grissom told us before she even got here that she was doing the internal investigation. It's not her fault that he asked her to do that. You can't be mad her forever over it."

"Nick …"

"No, listen," Nick said, cutting him off. "She's here to stay now, and we all need to be able to work together. How can you solve a case with her if you can't even say hello to her? You need –"

"Nick!" Warrick exclaimed, stopping the flow of words. "I get it! Please, just let me talk for a minute!"

Nick stopped trying to continue and looked at him expectantly.

"I needed to hear everything that you've said when she first got here. But, I get it now. I know that she was just doing her job." He sighed. "The problem is, I didn't do mine. I left Holly alone at that scene, and because of that, she's dead."

"You don't know that for sure," Nick said. "If you had been there, you could both be dead right now. We can't ever know how things would have gone if we had done something differently."

"I know," Warrick said. He ran his hand over his eyes. "I don't blame Sara for this, and I'm not going to hate her forever over it. I just … Right now, she reminds me of what I did wrong. That's what makes it hard."

"Well, you'd better get over it," Nick said. "You know how Grissom is. Give him a few days, and he'll have the two of you working together."

"I know, right?" Warrick said. "He just doesn't care, does he?"

Nick shrugged. "He's oblivious to all personal relationships."

Warrick grinned. "I don't know about that. He said that Sara's an old friend … how close do you think they were?"

Nick made a face. "Please. Don't ever put a thought like that in my head again."

Warrick laughed. "I'm just saying …"

"Don't," Nick said again. "She's a nice girl, and he's …"

"Grissom," Warrick supplied.

"Great guy," Nick added. "Just …"

"Yeah," Warrick said. "I know."

"Look, I've got to get back to audio," Nick said, standing to his feet. "What time is Lindsey coming in?"

"Sometime this afternoon."

Nick grinned. "I got her the coolest birthday present. I can't wait to give it to her."

"Is it loud?'

Nick's grin widened. "Don't worry – Catherine will approve."

Warrick laughed. "You're the uncle who gives the fun toys, aren't you?"

Nick laughed with him. "Let's put it this way – I have quite a few sisters who are threatening what will happen when I have children."

"Thought so," Warrick smiled. "All right – let's get back to work."

* * *

"Okay, let's take a break," Grissom said.

"A break?" Sara asked. "We just started processing the car!"

"I know," Grissom replied. "But, Lindsey should be here any minute."

"Lindsey?"

"Catherine's daughter," Grissom explained. "Today is her sixth birthday, and she's coming in for a party."

Sara's eyes widened. "I didn't know we did things like that here."

"We've always celebrated Lindsey's birthday," Grissom said. He shrugged. "She's Catherine's daughter. She's always been something of a niece to all of us."

"I didn't get her anything," Sara said.

"Don't worry about it," Grissom said. "Just come to the party. It'll be fun."

Sara was sure that there were plenty of things that would be more fun than a six-year-old's birthday party, but went along. She couldn't make friends with her coworkers if she avoided them.

* * *

Sara's fears over a lack of gifts and lack of fun turned out to be for not. Lindsey, in a rather uncharacteristic move, elected not to have a birthday party. Catherine was a mess, convinced that her strange hours and lack of social life were turning her daughter into a hermit. After snapping at Sara and blowing up at Grissom and Nick, she stalked off to process the car in her hit and run.

"What was that all about?" Sara asked as she and Grissom left the break room.

He shrugged. "I'll talk to her later."

"Hey, Griss, where did you buy this chem set?" Nick asked, following them out of the break room, carrying the duplicate presents he and Grissom had bought for Lindsey.

"Some toy store in the mall," Grissom replied. "Why?"

"I'm going to take mine back after shift. If you have the receipt, I'll take yours, too."

Grissom shook his head and grinned. "Nicky, I was serious. We're going to play with those later."

Nick raised his eyebrows. "Griss …"

"Really. Promise. Go put them somewhere safe."

Sara quirked an eyebrow.

"What?" he asked defensively. "I'm not allowed to have fun?"

"It's not that, it's just …"

"Hey," he said quietly. "I'm not 'Gruesome Grissom' _all_ the time."

He continued down the hall, leaving Sara where she stood. She hadn't realized that he was bothered by the nickname the lab techs had given him. Somehow, the fact that he didn't like it was a bit … comforting.

* * *

"Catherine? Do you have a minute?"

Catherine looked up to see Sara standing uncertainly in the locker room doorway. "Yeah. What can I do for you?"

"I just … wanted to talk to you," Sara said slowly.

"All right," Catherine said cautiously.

Sara drew a deep breath. "I just wanted to make sure that … God, I feel stupid doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Okay, I'm not trying to be strange or to make our working relationship awkward, but I wanted to make sure that you're not mad at me. I didn't know that Lindsey's birthday was today, or I would have brought something for her, and –"

"Sara, stop," Catherine said, holding up her hands. "I'm not mad."

"Oh."

"I'm a little freaked out because Lindsey didn't want a party, that's all," Catherine said. "I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at myself." She paused. "Look, we've known each other for less than two weeks, so there's no need for me to drag you into my personal drama. Let's just say that we're good to work together, all right?"

"All right," Sara agreed. "That's all that I needed to know."

"Good," Catherine said, swinging her purse over her shoulder and slamming her locker shut. "I need to go pick up Linds. I'll see you tomorrow, Sara."

"See you," Sara echoed as Catherine left the room.

"She doesn't play well with other girls."

Sara nearly jumped out of her skin as Greg rounded the corner. "What are you doing? Listening in on other people's conversations?"

"When they happen right in front of me, yes," Greg said. "And, in this case, I'm trying to help you out."

"All right," Sara said reluctantly. "What help do you have to offer?"

"Just an observation," Greg said. "For as long as I've worked in this lab, Catherine's been the only woman on the graveyard shift … except for the one day that Holly worked here. She can hold her own with all these men without batting an eye, but I've never seen her deal with a woman before." He paused. "Honestly? I think she's a bit threatened by you."

"Threatened? By me?"

"Yup."

Sara pressed her hand against her eyes. "Everything always has to be such a challenge."

"Look, you two are the only women on this shift. My advice? Bond together – otherwise, it's going to be hell for everyone involved."

Sara smiled. "Thanks, Dear Abby."

Greg grinned. "I just call them like I see them."

"Any other advice for me?"

His grin widened. "Be careful when Grissom offers you candy. You never know what's actual candy and what's … _entomologist_ candy."

Sara grimaced. "Duly noted."

* * *

"Okay, what if we mix these two?"

"Oh, man, that's going to –"

Warrick's words were cut off as Nick's chemical compound exploded. The four scientists burst into laughter.

"Why would you _do_ that?" Sara laughed.

"It suggests it on the box!" Nick said.

"It does not," Grissom laughed. "You need to be more careful how you read things, Nicky."

"It does so," Nick said, grabbing the box. "It's right here …" He trailed off flushing slightly. "Okay, so maybe it was a bad idea …"

Everyone laughed again, Nick included.

"What's going on in here?"

They all looked up as Greg poked his head in the break room door.

"We're playing with Lindsey's birthday presents," Warrick replied.

"Oh," Greg said. He glanced around the room. "Where's Linds?"

"She didn't want to celebrate her birthday," Grissom said.

"So, instead of giving her the toys at a later time, you decided to play with them for her?"

"Pretty much," Nick said.

"Ri-ight."

Sara looked at him for a moment. "Greg, do you want to play with us?"

"Oh, I don't know …"

"Come on," Warrick said. "We won't make you do anything weird." He grinned. "This is Sara's CSI initiation, not yours."

"Though, come to think of it, he never did have one …" Nick said thoughtfully.

"Well, his induction can be dyeing his hair three different colors," Warrick said. He glanced at Greg's highlighted locks. "Oh, wait …"

"Greg, just come in so they'll stop," Grissom finally said.

Laughing, Greg entered the room fully. "All right. What are we playing?"

"We're trying to see what happens when we mix the chemicals that came with these chem sets."

Greg's eyes grew round. "I loved playing with these when I was little!"

Sara and Warrick exchanged a glance and laughed.

"Well, you're in good company," Sara said.

"Did you have one of these, too?" Greg asked.

"Nope," Sara replied. "These two did."

Greg followed the jerk of her head to Grissom and Nick, his eyes growing wide.

"What?" Grissom asked defensively. "Believe it or not, Greg, I was allowed to play with toys."

"I'm just surprised you _chose_ to," Greg said.

Realizing how serious he was, the other four all burst into laughter again.

"Well," Warrick said at last, "I hope Catherine's having as much fun with Lindsey as we are with her toys."

* * *

Seated on a park bench with her daughter, eating ice cream, Catherine had no idea what she was missing at the lab. Truthfully, she didn't care. There was nowhere in the world she'd rather be than with her little girl, celebrating the day she turned six. 


	5. Teamwork

A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long to post. I'm a bridesmaid in three upcoming weddings, and they've been keeping me very busy recently. But, now I'm away on vacation, so, hopefully, I'll have more time to write.

Thanks again for reading and reviewing! I hope you like this chapter.

I don't own CSI. Some situations and dialogue are taken from episode 104, "Pledging Mr. Johnson."

* * *

_Teamwork_

"So, you're serious?" Sara asked as she and Nick drove away from the frat house, back to the lab.

"About what?"

She turned her eyes from the road to look at him. "You were a Greek?"

He gave her a teasing smile. "You weren't?"

She pursed her lips and looked back at the road. "No."

"Why not?"

She turned her head again to look at him. "What?"

"I know why I pledged a fraternity," he said simply. "I wanted to belong to something. I wanted the bonds and the friendship that came with membership." He grinned again. "I wanted to meet the sorority girls at mixers."

Sara stopped at a red light and turned to look at him fully. "Are you trying to destroy my image of you?"

Nick laughed. "College freshmen are pigs. I'm far more evolved now."

"Good to know."

"Seriously, though, why didn't you pledge a sorority?"

Sara shrugged. "I guess it never really occurred to me."

"Oh, don't give me that," Nick said with a smile. "College campuses are plastered with posters begging every student to rush a fraternity or sorority. I made half those posters. I know how it goes. _Everyone_ thinks about pledging – even if it's in a vague way."

"Yeah, well, not me."

"Why are you so opposed to this?" Nick asked. "I'm not saying it's the best thing for every college student, but it's a valid way of life – one that's existed for ages. Why were you so determined not to be a Greek?"

Sara sighed. "I was completely goal-oriented," she said. "I didn't do anything that would take away from my academics." She paused. "And don't even try to tell me that being in a fraternity didn't hurt your academic performance."

"Mostly when I was pledging," Nick admitted. "Green light."

"Thanks," Sara said, turning her eyes back to the road as she accelerated. "Tell you what – I promise not to judge you for your choices if you promise not to judge me for mine."

Nick grinned at her. "Deal."

"Good," Sara said. She glanced at him sideways. "Now, I think you're going to have to work overtime on this case."

"Whoa, now," Nick laughed. "I still outrank you. You don't get to assign me extra work."

Sara smiled. "I think you'll be glad to do this work."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah."

"What do you have in mind?"

She turned to look at him again. "I want you to teach me all about fraternities."

"What?"

"Don't act so surprised," she said, turning her eyes back to the road and trying unsuccessfully not to smile. "If we're going to solve this, we need to be on the same page. And, to do that, I need to have the same understanding of Greek life as you do."

Nick laughed. "I have to tell you, darling, that unless you're actually in a frat, you'll never have the same knowledge as I do."

"Okay, as much knowledge as you can give me, then."

"This won't … how did you put it? Destroy your image of me?"

"Nope," Sara said. "We have a deal – no judgment."

"And, you're sure you want to know?"

"Look," she said. "We both know that those frat boys killed James Johnson. Even if they didn't hang him from that rafter, they drove him to do it. We just need to prove it. And, to prove it, I need to understand their way of life."

"All right," Nick replied. "Here goes."

* * *

So, their victim had been cheating on her husband, who was completely clueless. Grissom thought it was a bit foolish of him not to notice – the woman periodically went away for time on her own. That should have been the first indication that she was sleeping with someone else.

Catherine, however, looked at it a completely different way. Grissom knew she was still stung from Eddie's betrayal. It wasn't until she commented, just before climbing into the SUV, that she wished that someone had told her about his affair that he realized how stung she still was by Grissom's silence.

"You're never going to let me forget it, are you?" he asked as he buckled his seatbelt.

Catherine sighed. "Gil, I just … I just think you should have told me. We've been friends a lot of years, and we've watched each other go through a lot. I would think that after all that, you'd have had the sense to tell me that you had seen my husband with another woman."

"Cath, I'm sorry," Grissom said, steering away from the suspect's house. "I should have told you. I should have listened to Sara –"

He stopped, knowing that he had said too much. As he had feared, Catherine seized upon his interrupted sentence.

"Should have listened to Sara about what?"

"It's not important."

"You told her?" Catherine asked, her anger building. "You told _Sara_ that you knew that Eddie was cheating on me, but you couldn't tell _me_?"

"I …"

"When the hell did you tell her? She didn't work here until …" Her eyes grew round. "The seminar in San Francisco. You saw her then, didn't you?"

"Yes," he admitted rather reluctantly.

"You saw her, and you told her about Eddie. You told her something about me – something personal, something private, something even _I_ didn't know – but you couldn't tell me?"

"Catherine, I –"

"Just – just drive, Gil."

"Cath –"

"Not now."

* * *

Grissom had always known that he and Catherine had different styles when it came to their job. But, they worked well together. They solved their cases. They found the evidence, put it all together and sought justice for the victims of the heinous crimes they saw every day. The differences between them generally meant that they could see all angles of a case. They served to help them. He had never stopped to think of the harm their divergent styles could cause.

He also knew that Catherine loved to meddle in his business. He had just never realized that she would be willing to meddle in someone else's.

They had worked together to break up a potentially … tense … moment when the victim's boyfriend and husband ran into each other at PD. Grissom had taken the boyfriend, leading him into an interrogation room, thinking that the husband was going to make him insane if he didn't back off and let him do his job.

After settling Mr. Swelco in the interrogation room, he returned to the hall, where Catherine was sitting with Mr. Barger. If they had just been sitting together, with Catherine once again blowing off Mr. Barger's requests for information, Grissom would have been perfectly happy. However, perfect happiness is difficult to find.

Catherine had taken it upon herself to do exactly what Grissom had said they should not do. She had told Mr. Barger that his wife had been having an affair with Mr. Swelco. She had confirmed that he was a suspect in her death.

Grissom crossed the hall and put his hand on Catherine's shoulder. "May I see you for a minute?"

"Grissom …"

"_Now_?" he asked pointedly.

Catherine nodded. "Excuse me," she said to Mr. Barger.

Grissom didn't speak to her as he led her outside. He could barely bring himself to look at her. He couldn't believe that she would do something so stupid.

"What?" Catherine asked defensively as they stopped in the parking lot.

"You know what," Grissom said, doing an admirable job of staying calm. "You just compromised our investigation."

"He deserved to know the truth," Catherine said, also remarkably calm.

"Knowing how she died, yes," Grissom said, his anger rising. "Knowing that she had an affair – how does that bring closure?"

Catherine sighed, her own temper still barely in check. "I guess you just have to be at the wrong end of an affair to understand."

"You can't make this about Eddie," Grissom said, bringing his temper back down. "Look, you hurt our case because your ex hurt you."

"We bring ourselves to our cases!" Catherine said, her eyes sparkling with anger. "We can't help it. I knew how Barger felt! Would you just relax? I didn't give him chapter and verse!" She started to walk away from her colleague.

"We can't give him anything, Catherine," Grissom said angrily, following her between the parked cars. "We're scientists! We're not psychiatrists or victims' rights advocates."

Catherine stopped and turned around. Grissom could see the anger snapping in her eyes.

"Right. You know, I should be just like you. Alone in my hermitically-sealed condo, watching Discovery on the big screen, working genius-level crossword puzzles. But, no relationships, no chance any will slop over into a case. Right. I want to be just like you."

Grissom looked at her in shock for a moment before speaking. "Technically, it's a townhouse. And the crosswords are advanced, not genius."

Catherine's irritation was evident on her face. She hated that he would never truly fight back when she tried to provoke him.

"But, you're right," he continued. "I'm deficient in a lot of ways. But, I never screw up one of my cases with personal stuff."

"Grissom," Catherine said, leaning closer to him, "_what_ personal stuff?"

She stalked off. He let her go, knowing that she was in no mood to talk.

* * *

"Well, I think they just might lose their charter for this," Nick said as he and Sara turned in their final report on the dead student.

"I hope they get more than just that," Sara replied. "Do you think frat boy was telling the truth? That daddy will get him out of this?"

"They killed a pledge, Sara. They tied a piece of raw liver to a string, forced him to swallow it and let him choke on it. Then, after not helping him, they strung him up so that it looked like a suicide. I think that's going to take more than a defense attorney father and monetary influence."

"Yeah, you're right."

"Of course I am," Nick said with a cheeky smile.

Sara rolled her eyes. "If you can be serious for five seconds …"

"I'll try."

She smiled. "I want to thank you. You really helped me out with this one. Without you, I wouldn't have had the knowledge of fraternities, and I wouldn't have been able to talk to Matt and Kyle or gain their trust the way you did … and I know that I couldn't have solved the case without that."

"Give yourself some credit, Sara. These are frat boys. I'll be the first to say that they're not all that bright."

"You should give _yourself_ some credit, Nicky," Sara shot back. "Grissom says that every case teaches us something that we can use on a future case. In this case, your own life taught you something. I'll admit that it was an odd area of expertise, but it definitely came in useful here."

"Grissom also says that it's our job to know stuff," Nick said. "I was just doing my job."

Sara nodded. "Look, shift is over. Do you want to go grab some breakfast?"

"Sure," Nick smiled.

They walked down the hall together, almost running into Warrick.

"Hey, Warrick," Nick said. "I thought you were off today."

"Yeah, I had some stuff to do …"

"Oh. Well, do you want to come out for breakfast with us?"

"I can't," Warrick said. "Thanks, though. I'll catch you next time."

"Where's he going?" Sara asked as Warrick round the corner in the opposite direction.

"Search me," Nick replied. "Hey, Catherine."

"Hi, guys," she said. "I'm sorry I can't chat, but I've got to get Lindsey from Eddie in like five minutes. I'll see you later."

"Bye," they said in unison.

"This place is like Grand Central," Sara commented.

"It always is at the end of a shift," Nick said. "We're leaving, day shift is coming in … I do my best to avoid Ecklie, but, other than him, it's always exciting to see everyone for a change." He grinned at the person coming down the hall toward them. "And, here comes my favorite lab tech."

Sara recognized the approaching figure and grinned, too. "Mine, too."

"Hey, guys."

"Hey, Greggo," Nick grinned. "Done for the day?"

"Yup."

"Do you want to come out for breakfast with us?" Sara asked.

"Sure," Greg grinned. "Where are we going?"

"No decision on that one yet," Sara replied. "Any suggestions?"

Greg opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Grissom, who was hurrying around the corner.

"Have you seen Catherine?" he asked.

"She was on her way to get Lindsey," Nick replied.

Grissom screwed up his face. "All right. I'll catch her later. Thanks, guys."

"You want to come out for breakfast, Griss?" Nick called after his retreating back.

"Next time," Grissom replied as he disappeared into his office.

"I wonder what that was about," Sara said as they passed the front desk.

"It's Grissom and Catherine," Greg said sagely. He grinned. "You know about them and their relationship."

Sara felt the bottom drop out of her stomach; she worked to mask her emotions. "No, I'm afraid I don't."

"They've worked together for years," Nick supplied. "They have this strange best friend / sibling / spousal relationship going on."

"Spousal?" Sara asked.

"Well, just in the sense that Catherine nags Grissom," Nick laughed. "Seriously, though, they're tight. The things she does and says … if one of us tried it, Grissom would give us that _look_, then ream us up one side and down the other. But, if it's Catherine, he just lets it go."

"Are you telling me to stay on her good side so she doesn't screw me over with Grissom?" Sara asked.

"Not exactly," Nick said slowly.

"But it wouldn't hurt," Greg added.

Sara bit her lip, wondering if she dared to ask the next question. Finally, she decided that she had to know. But, she would wait until they were far away from the lab.

* * *

Sara was seated at a booth in the back of Greg's favorite diner with him and Nick when she dared to broach the subject.

"Did they ever date?" she asked, hoping that she sounded off-hand.

"Who?" Greg asked.

"Grissom and Catherine."

"No," Nick said at once.

"We don't know that for sure," Greg said. "Have you ever asked Grissom?"

Nick laughed. "_No one_ asks Grissom about his personal life."

"True," Greg acknowledged. "Have you asked Catherine, then?"

"Look, I don't need to ask them," Nick said. "It's obvious that they've always been friends."

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Crime Scene Investigator?" Greg grinned. "Let's hear your evidence."

"If they had dated and broken up, things would be awkward between them," Nick said. "Think about how much time we spend together. I'd say it's most of the time that we're awake. Then, consider how closely we work. There's no way you could have broken up with someone in this lab and continued to work with him or her the way we work together without it being awkward."

"Fair enough," Sara said.

"Now, Grissom is the master at hiding his emotions," Nick said. "So, I'm willing to believe that he'd suppress everything for the good of the unit. But, Catherine …"

"Not so much," Greg laughed.

"She can't hide her emotions," Nick said. "We always know what she's feeling. There's no way she'd be able to work with Griss the way she does if they had broken up." He looked at Greg. "And, so, my friend, they have never dated."

"All right, all right," Greg grinned. "You can't blame a guy for wanting a little back story."

"How 'bout you look for _actual_ back story, instead of inventing it?" Nick suggested.

Greg heaved an exaggerated sigh. "If I must. But, I'm sure it's not nearly so interesting."

* * *

Grissom had just put the last of the clean dishes from the dishwasher into the cupboard when his doorbell rang. He frowned slightly. During Catherine's earlier tirade, she had accused him of being a hermit. While he didn't like to think of himself as completely cut off from human contact, he was willing to admit that visitors – particularly unexpected visitors – were rare.

He opened his door to see Catherine herself standing on his front step. His eyes widened.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi," she replied. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," he said, opening the door a bit wider.

"I'm sorry that I called it a condo," she said, looking around. "I knew that it's a townhouse. It's just been awhile since I've been over."

"You're always welcome, you know."

"Remember how we used to be?" she asked, turning to follow him into the kitchen. "We were always over at each other's places after work. Why don't we do that anymore?"

"You got married," Grissom said. "And, then, I believe your husband thought that we were having an affair."

"Oh," she smiled. "Right."

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Sure."

Grissom opened his fridge. "I have juice, milk, water or wine."

Catherine just looked at him. Grissom smiled.

"Can you grab the wine glasses? They're in the cupboard right behind you."

Catherine pulled the glasses down and put them on the counter. "Gil … I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked, uncorking the wine.

"For the things that I said. I shouldn't have said them."

"Why not?" Grissom replied. "Aside from getting a few details wrong, you were telling the truth."

Her eyes widened.

"Like you said, we've been through a lot together," Grissom said, pouring each of them a glass of wine. "You can always tell me the truth. Even if it's harsh … I want to hear it from you."

She smiled. "Thanks, Gil. That means a lot."

He nodded, and chinked his glass against hers. "Cheers."

"Cheers," she echoed, taking a sip of her wine. She was silent for a moment, then spoke again. "I want to let you know, too, that I understand why you didn't tell me about seeing Eddie with that girl."

Grissom's eyes widened.

"At that point, I was so eager to save my marriage that I would never have believed you. I really just needed to see it for myself. I would have … well, it wouldn't have been good for our friendship or for our working relationship."

"That's why I didn't tell you," Grissom said. He paused. "I didn't realize that it would upset you so much to know that I had told Sara. I just … I needed to talk to someone, and she seemed like the natural choice. She didn't know you, and, at that time, I was sure that she never would."

"I guess that makes sense," Catherine said slowly.

"And," Grissom added, "for what it's worth, she told me to tell you."

Catherine smiled. "Smart girl."

"Yes," Grissom agreed, "she is."

"You know," Catherine said, taking another sip of wine, "I think she has a bit of a crush on you."

Grissom rolled his eyes. "She is more than a decade younger than me. There is no way she has a crush on me."

"Well, then, can I say that you have a bit of a crush on her?"

"She is more than a decade younger –"

"Age is just a number," Catherine interrupted.

"And you are just annoying."

Catherine grinned. "I'm just trying to help you get some personal stuff."

"I'm fine without it, thanks."

Catherine sighed. "That's what I was afraid of."


	6. Bonds

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long to post. There were two factors in play – first, I've gone through several versions trying to make it right. I think I'm finally pleased with the way it turned out. Second, like any good Harry Potter fan, I spent the last few weeks devoting most of my free time to rereading the first six books of the series in preparation for getting the seventh. Now that I'm finally coming back to my senses after reading that book at breakneck speed, it's definitely time to get _this_ story back in motion!

I hope you like this chapter. Thanks so much for your patience with me, and for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI. Situational inspiration and some lines of dialogue have been taken from episode 106, "Who Are You?"

* * *

"Are you in the mood for something interesting?" Brass asked, walking into Grissom's office.

"That depends on your definition of 'interesting,'" Grissom replied. "What do you have?"

"A plumber found what appear to be human bones protruding from the foundation of a house," Brass said.

"Okay," Grissom said, leaning forward in his desk chair, "that certainly qualifies as 'interesting.'"

"I knew you'd like it," Brass grinned. "I'm leaving for the scene now. Do you want to come with?"

"I need to find one of my guys to come with me," Grissom said. "I'll meet you there."

"All right," Brass agreed. He grabbed an assignment slip and wrote the details on it. "See you there."

As Brass walked out of his office, Grissom considered his options. Sara and Catherine were in the process of wrapping a case, but he didn't want to interrupt them. Warrick had the night off. He smiled, wondering how Nick would feel about tearing a house apart from the foundation.

* * *

"You want me to _what_?" Nick exclaimed.

"We need all the bricks in this section to come off," Grissom replied. "If you can get started on that, I'll go under the house and make sure we're dealing with a human skeleton."

"Shouldn't we wait until we know it's human before we take the bricks off?"

"Even if it's an animal, the owner will want it gone," Grissom replied. He grinned, and handed Nick a hammer. "Get to work."

"Thanks," Nick said sarcastically.

"Once you have the bricks off, we'll open the foundation," Grissom said. "That way, we can get the bones out."

"Right," Nick said. As difficult as his end of the task was, he had to admit that this was rather exciting. He grinned to think of how jealous Sara would be when she found out how he had spent his evening.

After removing the bricks, leaving the concrete foundation visible, Nick retrieved his kit from the car. He carried it back to the house, which Grissom had crawled under to determine what exactly the plumber had found. Connected by headsets, the two men remained in constant contact.

"Okay, I'm ready up here," Nick said, kneeling down next to the exposed section of foundation.

"Hang on a minute," Grissom replied. He crawled beneath the house, trying to hurry under the pipes to reach his destination. Finally finding the bones, he laid down next to them on his stomach and shone his flashlight on them. "Okay, I'm there."

"Can you confirm it's human?" Nick asked.

Grissom pressed one of the protruding bones down with his finger and watched it bounce back. "Metacarpal … phalanges … no question about it," he said with a hint of a smile.

Breaking the skeleton out of the foundation was a delicate job. It took the entire shift just to free the bones from their concrete grave. By the end of their mission, both Grissom and Nick were dusty, sweaty and exhausted. Grissom rode back to the lab with the body, while Nick drove the SUV they had brought to the scene. They met up again at the morgue, where Grissom had taken the skeleton.

"You've really done a great job tonight, Nicky," Grissom said.

"Thanks," Nick smiled.

"We'll play more with this tomorrow," he promised.

"Tomorrow?" Nick asked. "Aren't we going to get to work?"

"These bones have been waiting for us for years, I'd say," Grissom said. "Another few hours won't make a difference. They'll still be here tomorrow."

"You're sure?" Nick asked hesitantly. Grissom generally had no problem pulling double and triple shifts to get to the bottom of a mystery.

"I'm sure," Grissom replied. He smiled. "This was a cold case until today, Nick. We can wait a bit before warming it up again. We're both exhausted, and I know we're not going to work at our best level right now. Go home and get some rest."

"Right," Nick agreed. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Grissom nodded. "Drive safely."

"You, too."

* * *

The next day brought the entire team to work ready to take on new cases. Sara and Catherine had closed their previous case, and Warrick was back from his day off. Knowing that Nick was already working with him on the skeleton, Grissom walked into the lab ready to assign the others new cases.

His heart sank when he saw what awaited him. These were two cases that he would rather avoid.

The first was an officer involved shooting. Grissom's immediate thought was to take it himself. Cases where the police had potentially shot the victims were very tricky, and required a delicate, diplomatic touch. He had handled several before, and knew that he could do it again.

But, this was one case that needed his undivided attention – something that it would not receive, considering a skeleton was waiting for him in the morgue. Of the others on his team, only Sara had handled an OIS before, that one during her time in San Francisco. He had no reservations about giving her this one, but he did not want her to tackle it alone. His impulse was to assign Warrick to work with her. He needed the lessons in patience and prudence that the case would teach.

That left him with his second new case: a rape. He normally wouldn't think twice of assigning it to Catherine. She had worked plenty of rape cases, and had an amazing ability to deal with the victims. The problem was that this victim had accused her ex-husband of rape.

Dropping his head into his hands, Grissom looked at the note written on the paper in front of him.

_Accused, Eddie Willows, requests CSI Catherine Willows_

"Well, _that_ sounds like a good plan," Grissom muttered.

Deciding to wait to see who had the free time to take the case, he left to meet his team.

They had already gathered in one of the conference rooms when he rushed through the door.

"Okay, I'm late again," he apologized as he walked in.

The complete lack of reaction showed how well his team knew him. Catherine pulled out a pen and notebook to write down case assignments.

"Nick's going to work with me on that unidentified body at Summer Cliff," Grissom said.

"I hear it's just bones," Sara said in awe. "What a rush."

"OIS at the jockey club," Grissom replied, offering her an assignment slip.

"Officer involved shooting," Sara said as she took the paper from her supervisor.

"I'll take a piece of that," Warrick volunteered.

Grissom smiled slightly. Warrick was making his job very easy. "Good, I want you to double up," he said. "Listen, these deals are never easy, so keep me informed, please."

"Will do," Warrick replied.

"I drive," Sara said as they walked out of the conference room.

"Picture that," Warrick said sarcastically, letting the door fall closed behind them.

"So, what do you have for me?" Catherine asked. "I could use a rush."

"Well, this qualifies," Grissom said, sitting down with her. "426 … but, I can't give you the case."

"Because?" Catherine asked.

"Conflict of interest," Grissom said. He decided to beat around the bush. "The alleged rape victim is an exotic dancer."

Catherine sat up straighter, turning to look at him fully. "Because I used to _be_ one, I'll be biased?" she asked, obviously insulted.

"No," Grissom replied. "The suspect's your ex-husband."

Catherine stared at him. Grissom looked right back, until she finally stood up.

"He's asking for you, but you can't take it," he said.

"Just … let me do the prelim."

They looked into each other's eyes for ages. Catherine was silently pleading with him; Grissom felt his firm resolve begin to crack.

"All right," he finally agreed. "Do what you can. But, after the preliminary, you pass it off, okay?"

Catherine didn't reply; she walked out of the room. Grissom watched her go, feeling some misgivings. He hated when Catherine didn't answer him. It generally meant she was about to do the exact opposite of what he had asked.

* * *

Nick was already in the morgue when Grissom got there. They worked together to determine that their victim was a female who had died when she was around twenty, and that she had been stabbed to death with an unknown weapon.

"Well," Grissom said at last, "we just need to identify her."

"How on earth are we going to do that?" Nick asked. "No fingerprints … no DNA …"

"We need to get her face out there," Grissom said. "Maybe a hotline …"

"Griss …" Nick said slowly. "What face? She doesn't have one."

"She _did_, though," Grissom replied. "We'll get a forensic artist in here. We'll have a model of her face made. It won't be perfect, but we should be able to get something close enough that someone will be able to identify her."

Nick nodded. "Do you want me to make some calls?"

"If you don't mind," Grissom said. "I'll get you a list of names." He thought for a minute. "The first one I want you to call is Teri Miller."

"Who's she?"

"The top forensic artist in the United States," Grissom replied. "If she can't help us, no one can."

* * *

"Don't you think you went a little easy on Brass?" Warrick asked as he and Sara processed the dead body in the car.

Sara lowered her camera and looked up at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"He doesn't want us to investigate this, Sara! He wants us to say that Tyner's story is true without looking any further!"

"Of course, he does," she said. "Warrick, Tyner is one of his guys. If it were one of us accused of shooting a suspect, I'd imagine that Grissom would do the same."

Warrick shook his head. "Grissom would investigate. He'd look for the truth."

"But, he'd be biased in our favor," Sara said evenly. "We have to be careful about this, Warrick. We work _with_ the cops, not against them. If it looks like we're going out of our way to prove that Officer Tyner shot this man, we're going to be in a world of hurt."

"But –"

"If he's dirty, I'm with you one hundred percent," Sara interrupted. "But, let's just make sure that he _is_ a dirty cop before we get too far in."

Warrick raised an eyebrow. "Don't get ahead of the evidence, huh?"

"Right."

He shook his head. "There's no need to channel Grissom, girl."

"Maybe there is," Sara said quietly.

* * *

"Griss! Wait up!"

Grissom paused on his journey down the hallway, turning to see Nick behind him. "Come and see this," he said. "I found a way to get our face."

Nick followed him into the garage, stopping in shock at what he saw. "You brought the foundation of the house to our lab?"

"It's a six by three foot section," Grissom said defensively, almost as though unable to believe Nick's disbelief.

After explaining that the dried concrete had preserved an impression of the mystery woman's face, Grissom asked Nick about the house. Nick relayed all the information he had gathered: that the house had been built five years ago, and that the owners had bought it after its construction, which effectively eliminated them as suspects.

"But, there's something else," Nick said, excitement evident in his voice.

"What?" Grissom asked, looking up from the foundation.

"I talked to Teri Miller, and she's agreed to come. She'll be here tomorrow."

Grissom's eyes widened. "Well done, Nicky," he said. He looked back at the foundation. "Our skeleton won't be a 'Jane Doe' much longer."

* * *

"I've done some investigating."

"Way to do your job, Sara," Warrick said sarcastically.

"Look, I know that I've been a little less willing to believe that Tyner shot that guy than you'd like, but you made some good points," Sara said. "Why _would_ a suspect lead a cop on a high-speed chase just to shoot himself? Why _was_ Officer Tyner's gun missing a bullet?"

"Why am I stuck in yesterday's conversation?" Warrick asked.

"Why does Tyner have _five_ civilian complaints against him?" Sara shot back.

Warrick's eyes grew round. "_Five_?" he repeated in shock.

"Yup," Sara said. "Three were for excessive force. He's also been through two IA investigations."

"Wow … you really did go and investigate this."

"It's like I said – if the guy's dirty, he's going down. But, we have to be smart about this, Warrick. We can't go and pick a fight with the cops. We need hard evidence behind us."

"Well, we're missing the hardest piece of all."

"Yeah," Sara sighed. "Doc Robbins didn't find the bullet in the body?"

"Nope."

"Shit," Sara muttered. "Well, we do have enough to question Tyner at this point."

"Does that count as picking a fight?" Warrick asked with a wry smile.

"Shut up," Sara said, smiling back at him. "Let's go call him in for questioning."

* * *

Grissom had seen plenty of pictures of Teri Miller in forensic journals, and knew her to be pretty. Even so, he was not prepared for the beautiful woman who walked into his office and complimented the tarantula that was crawling across his hands. Long blond hair, deep blue eyes, red lips, porcelain skin … she was like a princess described in a fairytale. And, her obvious pleasure in letting his spider walk across her own hands didn't hurt.

He was smitten.

Grissom didn't leave Teri's side as she worked to create a face for their Jane Doe. Even if it had not been his case, he would have wanted to be there. He was completely enthralled by two things: learning about the complicated process, and spending time with the beautiful woman who was so willing to teach him.

"Give me your hands," she said, guiding him through the process of creating a clay mold of the partial impression of her face preserved in the concrete.

"Beautiful," he murmured as she put her hands over his to show him how to move the clay.

"She will be," she replied.

"I meant …"

"What?"

"Never mind," he said, flushing slightly. "It was nothing."

She smiled, and looked away.

"Have you been a forensic artist for long?" he asked.

"Nearly ten years," she replied.

"I'm surprised we haven't met before," Grissom comment. "I'm sure we go to plenty of the same seminars."

"Probably," she said rather off-handedly. "I'm usually presenting at seminars, though. I don't get to attend many as a guest."

"I'll have to try to sit in on one of your lectures."

She smiled. "I hope you do. I'm sure you'll find it fascinating."

"I already do," he said softly.

She smiled again. "Let me show you how to make a plaster mold from this partial," she said. "We need to give this woman a whole face."

"I'd like that very much."

It took them most of the day to create the model face for the woman who had met with such a tragic demise. Grissom was pleased that they finished in time for him to get the picture to the networks to broadcast on the evening news. He wanted this woman identified as soon as possible.

* * *

Grissom had just come back from meeting with the mother of Faye Green, his newly identified victim, when his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open.

"Grissom."

"Hi, Grissom, it's Sara."

"Sara," he said, "what can I do for you?"

"I have some news," she said.

"Okay …"

"Warrick and I are about to launch into full warfare with the PD."

Grissom sat down, thankful that he was in the privacy of his office. "You think the cop shot the victim?"

"It's starting to look that way."

"What is your evidence?"

"Tyner – the cop – has one bullet missing from his gun and five civilian complaints in his jacket, and we have an eyewitness who says he saw him shot the suspect."

"The suspect?"

"The victim was a suspect in another crime."

"Right," Grissom said slowly. "Not to ask the obvious here, but did you match the bullet to the cop's gun?"

"We … um … we haven't found the bullet."

Grissom closed his eyes. "You do need that piece of evidence, Sara."

"I know, I know. But, Griss, it's really starting to mount up against this guy, and you told us to keep you informed …"

"I know," he said. "Thanks for letting me know. Please come and see me when you get back to the lab."

"Right."

"Bye."

Sara closed her phone and turned to Warrick, who was driving. "Grissom wants to see us when we get back."

Warrick nodded. "How did he take the news?"

"He seems a bit incredulous. He said we need to find the bullet."

"Believe me, I wish we had it," Warrick said. "We need to nail this guy."

"Well, it's not in the body or at the crime scene," Sara said.

"Right," Warrick sighed. He glanced at her. "I want to thank you."

"To thank me?" she asked. "Why?"

"For going with me on this one. I think a lot of people would be really reluctant to fight the cops like this. I'm just … I'm glad you're on my side."

"I'm on the truth's side, Warrick," she replied. "Right now, the truth seems to think that Tyner's dirty – and, we're not letting a dirty cop stay on the streets."

* * *

"Hey, can you go talk to Griss alone?" Warrick asked as they walked back into the lab. "I really, really need a break."

Sara grinned. "Sure. Go find Nick and play some videogames."

Warrick laughed. "I meant that I have to go to the bathroom, genius."

Sara laughed with him. "Whatever. I'll go chat it up with Grissom."

She walked down the hall to his office and knocked on the open door. He looked up to see her standing in the doorframe.

"Hey," he smiled. "Come in."

"Hi," Sara replied as she sat down across from him. "How's the skeleton?"

"You mean, Faye Green?" he smiled. "She's finally starting to give us some leads."

"That's great," Sara smiled.

Grissom nodded. "So, you want to tell me about your eyewitness?"

Sara sighed. "He's a valet," she said. "He was hanging out in one of the cars in the parking lot and saw it all happen."

"He says that he saw Officer Tyner shoot the victim in the head?"

"Yes."

"For no reason?"

"No reason."

Grissom looked down at his desk for a moment, then back up at her. "I don't know, Sara … I'm not sure that I'd base this whole thing on his testimony."

"I know," Sara said. "But, like I told you, the evidence is starting to pile up against this guy."

"Just don't get ahead of yourself, okay?"

"We won't."

Grissom frowned slightly. "Has Warrick been with you all day?"

"Where else would he be?"

"I told Catherine to give him her case."

Sara frowned. "I don't think she did. Like I said, we've been together all day, and I don't remember him talking to her at all."

Grissom closed his eyes. "That woman will be the death of me," he muttered. "All right, I think we're done here. You and Warrick be careful with this one, okay?"

"We will."

* * *

"So, what was Catherine supposed to have you do?"

Warrick shook his head. "She's working some rape charge that Grissom told her to give me," he said. "How did you know?"

"Grissom asked me how you could have possibly been with me all day when you were supposed to do something for her."

"He knew!" Warrick exclaimed. "He came in here and started quizzing me about the case, and he already knew that I hadn't heard anything about it."

Sara smiled. "Looks like."

"Yeah, well, the alleged rapist is Cath's ex," Warrick explained. "If she investigates …"

"Yeah, no good can come of that."

Warrick shook his head again. "They'll figure it out. What did Grissom say about our evidence?"

"That we need to be careful and make sure that we don't get ahead of ourselves."

"Sounds like Grissom."

They left the break room and walked out into the hallway, where they were immediately attacked by Brass, who was enraged over the fact that the DA had filed charges against his cop. Warrick and Sara jumped to the defense of their evidence; Sara pointed out that Tyner's missing bullet was the thing that sealed the case.

"That's you CSIs – always counting bullets."

They turned to see Tyner himself striding toward them.

"What's he doing here?" Warrick asked.

Brass shushed Warrick and stepped forward to lead Tyner away.

Unfortunately, Brass wasn't quick enough. Tyner began shouting all the ways that scientists were inferior to cops; Warrick was more than willing to trade insults. The ensuing screaming match brought Nick, Grissom and Greg out of the lab. By the time they had made it to the hallway, Tyner and Warrick were shoving each other. Grissom jumped in between them, breaking up the fight.

While Nick took Tyner out of the building and Grissom talked to Brass, Sara grabbed Warrick's arm, leading him back to the locker room.

"Well, this is it," she said. "Scientist versus cop." She smiled. "We'll come out on top. Brains versus brawn, you know."

"Damn him!" Warrick yelled, slamming his fist into his locker. "So damn superior! It's guys like him that make me hate cops. They act like they're above the law. They're no better than us."

"No," Sara agreed, "they're not. But, if we don't do our jobs right, what does that say about us? We can't hide behind our latex gloves any more than they should, as you said, hide behind their union reps."

"Exactly."

Sara and Warrick both looked up as Grissom walked into the locker room.

"You need to do your jobs," he said quietly.

"We –"

"But –"

Grissom held up his hand to silence their protests. "I know that you've done your jobs thus far. You've collected evidence. The DA's decision to press charges wasn't yours, and there's nothing you can do about it. But, you need to find that bullet."

"We tried –"

"Then, try harder. It has to be out there somewhere." He turned to leave. "I don't want to hear from you again until you've found it."

* * *

The bullet was in the car. Its position told the whole story: the victim had indeed shot himself. Brass was less than pleased to hear the news; he obviously felt that Warrick and Sara had jerked him and Tyner around for nothing.

"Well, that was ridiculous," Sara said as they left the garage. "You know, sometimes I wonder why we even bother trying to be nice to people."

"Sara …"

She stopped with Warrick and turned to look at him. She raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Do you realize that this is the first case we've worked together?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess it is."

Warrick smiled. "You like honesty, right?"

"I do," she agreed, wondering where he was going with this.

"Well, when you first came here, I wasn't sure about you … I think that had a lot to do with the fact that you were investigating me. But, after this case … Sara, you're a damn good CSI, and we're lucky to have you."

Sara grinned. "You know, I was thinking the same thing about you."

* * *

Grissom walked into his office as though in a daze. He still couldn't believe what he had seen, what had nearly happened to Nick …

Searching for a distraction, his eyes fell on the bulletin board shaped like a fish that hung on his way. _The ones that got away …_

Then, he saw it. Hanging between all the cold cases was a small slip of paper. Grissom stared at his fish board in shock. She had been serious. Teri truly had posted her number on it. He reached up with hands that trembled slightly to take it down.

"Eddie didn't rape that girl."

Grissom shoved the slip of paper bearing Teri's phone number into his pocket and looked at Catherine. "What?"

"She cried rape in a desperate attempt to get money out of him."

"I hope you told her that he's broke."

"She didn't want to believe that any more than I wanted to believe it when I was the exotic dancer who dated him," she said. "I'm sorry that I didn't hand it off when you told me to. You were right. I still have some bizarre feelings for Eddie that I'll never act on because I know that Linds and I are better off without him. Because of that, I could have very easily screwed him over while I tried to help him. Or, maybe even worse, I could have done something to hurt the lab. I'm sorry, Gil."

"Yeah, well, I guess it worked out."

She looked at him closely. "What's wrong with you? You look like hell."

"It's been a rough night."

"You're not going to tell me what happened?"

He sighed. "Let's just say that Office Tyner would be proud of me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I had to draw my weapon."

* * *

Sara and Warrick walked down the hall together, both smiling. They had just logged their final evidence. The DA had rescinded the charges that had been filed against Tyner. Even if Brass wasn't willing to forgive them just yet, they were confident that they had done their jobs.

"Guys!"

Sara and Warrick both looked around as Greg ran toward them.

"Where's the fire, Greggo?" Warrick asked.

"It's Nick!"

"What happened to him?" Warrick asked, dread filling him. Greg looked genuinely upset.

"He and Grissom went to arrest the suspect in their case – and she pulled a gun on Nick!"

"My God," Sara exclaimed. "Is he all right?"

"Yeah … Grissom got her to drop the gun. But, he's pretty shaky."

"Where is he?" Warrick asked.

"In the locker room …"

"Thanks!"

Warrick and Sara took off at a run, skidding to a stop outside the locker room door. Warrick opened it, holding it for Sara to pass before him. Nick was inside, sitting on a bench with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

"Hey, Nicky," she whispered. She sat down next to him. "Rough night?"

"You could say that," he said as Warrick sat down on his other side.

"What happened, Nicky?" Warrick asked.

Nick shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it," he muttered.

"Let's go out for a drink, then," Sara said.

"Yeah," Warrick agreed. "My treat."

"I'm sure you guys have stuff to do … you don't need to baby sit me."

"We have you to go out for a drink with," Warrick said firmly. "That's what we have to do. Come on. We're going."

Warrick and Sara both stood up and looked down expectantly at Nick. He looked up at them as if not sure he could believe what was happening.

"You're sure?"

Sara looked at Warrick for a moment, then back at Nick. "We're sure that we're not about to let you be alone right now. Let's go."

Nick finally stood up and allowed Warrick and Sara to lead him out of the lab. He didn't speak for the longest time, knowing that he'd never be able to find the words to express what he was really feeling: that he was incredibly lucky to have these two people as his friends.


	7. The Start of Something?

A/N: I love this chapter – I'm so excited for you to read it. I hope you like it, too!

Thanks, as always, for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Situational inspiration (but no dialogue!) is from episodes 109, "Unfriendly Skies" and 110, "Sex, Lies and Larvae."

* * *

Sara let herself into her apartment, locking the door behind her. Her keys dropped to the floor as she covered her face with her hands. Rocking slightly from side to side, she leaned back against the door and groaned.

"_Why_ did I do that?" she moaned.

He was right – it had been entirely her fault. She had started it, over talking as she always did around him, then playfully asking him to cite his source. Of course, she had assumed that _his_ source would be similar to hers….

Finally finding the strength to walk fully into her apartment, she pulled out her cell phone. There was only one person who could help her through a crisis like this. She pressed the appropriate buttons as she sank down onto the couch.

The phone only rang once before it was answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Sara!" Mary exclaimed. "How are you?"

"I made a horrible mistake."

Sara could almost hear Mary slowly sitting down. "What happened?"

"Do you remember Ken Fuller?"

"Your sophomore year boyfriend?" Mary asked. Her grin was evident in her voice. "The one who made you a member of the 'mile high club?'"

"That would be the one."

"What about him?" She paused. "You didn't find him in Vegas, did you? He didn't … persuade you to take another flight?"

"No, once was certainly more than enough of that particular experience," Sara said stiffly.

Mary giggled. "Okay, what does Ken have to do with your horrible mistake? I'd say it's a little late to feel guilt over the Delta Incident," she said, using the term she and Sara and coined during their sophomore year to refer to Sara's daring adventure with Ken Fuller.

"And, I know it's far too late for you to tell me that you're pregnant with his child."

"No, nothing like that."

"Are you going to tell me what happened, or am I going to listen to you beating yourself up over some unknown incident all night?"

Sara sighed. "I was working this case," she began. "A man died on an inbound flight."

"I'm guessing it wasn't a natural death?"

"Not so much," Sara said. "Anyway, we all went in to work on this one. Grissom assigned Catherine and Warrick to interview the passengers, Nick go back to the morgue to process the body and to run stuff through the lab, and me to help him process the plane."

"You and Grissom in close quarters … alone?"

"Stop it," Sara said tiredly. "So, we were working on the first class section of the plane, and we ended up in the bathroom."

"Oh, my God," Mary nearly whispered. "Was it a reenactment of your mile high experience, only less than a mile high?"

Sara laughed hollowly. "Well, we certainly found evidence that I'm not the only member of the club."

"Ick."

"Yeah, I've seen worse."

"I don't know how you do your job."

"You just do," Sara shrugged. "Anyway, Grissom commented that the high altitude increases euphoria and heightens the sexual experience."

"Oo, sounds like someone knows what he's talking about," Mary teased.

"Exactly! So, thinking that I'd take the bait and flirt with him, I asked him to cite his source."

"Cite his source?" Just her tone of voice suggested that Mary was rolling her eyes. "Sara Sidle, you are _such_ a geek."

"What? We're always saying that in the lab."

"I rest my case." Mary cleared her throat. "Anyway …"

"Right. So, he tried to dodge the question, but, eventually admitted to getting his information from some forensics magazine that I've never heard of."

"Did you call him on … faking it?" Mary laughed.

"I most certainly did," Sara replied, laughing with her. "He said he'd get me a subscription."

"Right," Mary laughed. "You let me know when the first issue finds its way into your mailbox."

"Seriously."

"I don't know, Sara … I don't think it was a horrible mistake. He took it in stride."

"Yeah … until he turned it around and asked _me_ to cite _my_ source."

"Oh, no," Mary exclaimed. "Did you tell him?"

"What could I do?" Sara moaned. "I could have made up some journal like he undoubtedly did, but A.) he knows every journal ever published, so he'd know I was lying, and B.) he'd already done it."

"Oh, no," Mary said again.

"So, I told him," Sara sighed. She smirked. "I even gave him the flight number."

"Sara!" Mary laughed.

"Hey, if I'm going to do something, I'm going to do it all the way." She paused. "I also told him that it's not all it's cracked up to be."

"_Sara_!"

"Like I said …"

"Right. Do it all the way." Mary giggled. "Which, incidentally, is an excellent phrase to use in this case …"

"God Almighty, Mar."

"You're the one who brought it up." Realizing what she had said, Mary burst into laughter again.

"Stop it!" Sara exclaimed, laughing with her. "Enough with the double entendres, already!"

"All right, all right. What did Grissom say when you admitted to the Delta Incident?"

Sara smirked again. "He made me collect the bathroom evidence. He said that I was the one with the firsthand experience, or something like that."

Mary laughed again. "Well, darling, all told, I'd say it's not nearly so terrible as you're making it sound. I think he took it pretty well."

"So we think now. We'll see what he says tomorrow."

"A gentleman wouldn't comment."

"A gentleman wouldn't have asked."

"Neither would a lady," Mary shot back.

Sara moaned again. "I told you it was a horrible mistake. I thought I was flirting with him."

Mary shook her head. "Geeks don't flirt, Sara."

"Hey!"

"I'm not saying it's a bad thing to be a geek. God knows I'm one. But, so are you and Grissom. I think you should stick to what you're good at."

"What's that, exactly?"

Mary paused. "Focus on what it's _not_: flirting."

"You know, you really know how to bring a girl's spirits up when she's down."

"Hey, _you_ called _me_."

Sara laughed. "I love you, Mary."

"I love you, too, Sara."

* * *

Grissom threw the journal he was attempting to read across the room. He couldn't concentrate. Ever since his airplane conversation with Sara, he couldn't stop thinking about what she had said. He never would have guessed that she was a member of the mile high club. Somehow, things like that seemed so beneath her …

Or, maybe it was that he considered things like that beneath him. Maybe, he was projecting his own feelings and opinions onto her, hoping that she would be the same sort of person that he was.

He shook his head. He already knew that they were similar people. They just held different opinions about some things.

But …

He'd be willing to change if she'd be willing to help him. He could almost see them in that bathroom, together, his lips on hers, her hands on him, him pulling her closer and closer …

His face burned red, and he closed his eyes tightly. No, he couldn't have thoughts like that about Sara. He didn't have the _right_ to have thoughts like that about Sara.

He needed a distraction. He jumped out of his chair and began pacing around his apartment, searching for something to capture his attention.

His eyes fell on a small piece of paper, and a smile crossed his face. There it was. He had found his distraction.

He had nearly forgotten about Teri in the heat of the investigations he had been leading. But, she was always there, tapping away at the back of his mind. He couldn't forget her, even if he had wanted to – and, he certainly didn't want to. He reached for his phone, and dialed her number.

Her voicemail picked up. Grissom sighed and waited for the tone.

"Hi, Teri, this is Gil Grissom. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to call you, but I'd love to get together sometime. I – I really liked spending time with you in the lab, and I'd like to get to know you outside of work. So, if you could call me back, we could arrange a time to go out…." He left his number and said good bye.

He looked at his silent phone for a moment, almost amazed at his own daring. He hoped that she'd call back. Soon.

* * *

Sara sat alone in a darkened conference room, finishing her report on her latest case. She knew that there were plenty of spaces in the lab where she could have worked, but she always used empty conference rooms when she could. She liked spreading all her notes and evidence out across the large tables when she worked.

She was nearly done when the door opened and Grissom peeked in. She looked up with a somewhat apprehensive smile. They hadn't spoken much since they had finished the airplane case, and had certainly not spent any time alone together. Admittedly, she had not done anything to seek him out. She was attempting to put off the inevitable as long as possible. She hoped that things wouldn't be awkward between them after her confession.

"Want to go to the mountains with me?" he asked.

Sara raised her eyebrows. "Huh?"

Grissom smiled. "A couple of hikers found a body in the mountains. I'm on my way right now. Want to come along?"

"Sure," she said, clicking the save button on her computer. "Can you give me a few minutes?"

"Of course."

Fifteen minutes later, Sara was seated in the passenger seat of Grissom's SUV, on her way to the mountains with him. He threw a sidelong glance in her direction as he turned out of the parking lot.

"So, any mountain stories I should hear before we get there?" he asked.

Sara knew very well what he was asking, but decided to make him work for it. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, that whole airline lavatory story sort of came out of nowhere … I don't want to be blindsided while working a case again."

Sara couldn't help but smile. "That's a terrible way to ask someone for very personal information."

"And telling someone to cite his source is a tactful way to do it?" Grissom shot back.

"Fair enough," Sara grinned. "No, I don't have any mountain stories … yet."

Grissom glanced at her again. "Were you hoping to have one?"

"Maybe … someday. With the right person starring opposite me."

"Ken Fuller wasn't the right person?"

"No," Sara said promptly. "Not by a long shot."

Somehow, her words made Grissom feel lighter as he pulled onto the freeway. He smiled and reached over to turn on the radio. Silence reigned for a moment until strains of Vivaldi filled the air.

"Griss, what the hell kind of music is this?"

"Classical," he replied, undaunted by her question. "Don't you think it's soothing?"

"I think it's going to put me to sleep." Sara leaned forward and pressed the radio's scan button until she found her favorite top 40 station.

Grissom glanced at her. "Are we twelve years old?"

"I love top 40," she said defensively.

"No."

"No, what?"

"No, we're not listening to this all the way to the scene."

Sara rolled her eyes and searched for another station. She finally stopped as the sounds of Pink Floyd flooded the car.

"Will this suit his majesty?" she asked.

Grissom pursed his lips, trying unsuccessfully not to smile. "Yes."

"Good," Sara said, leaning back in her seat. "I didn't know you like classic rock."

"I've always liked it."

She smiled. "Me, too."

Grissom smiled back at her.

* * *

"How's that missing person going, Nick?"

"Still missing," Nick replied, looking up from his locker. "How's your mountain lady?"

Sara closed her eyes. "Not dead enough."

"Huh?"

She opened her eyes again. "Brass must have told us a thousand times that we needed to pinpoint her time of death five days ago. That's when her husband was still in town, and that's when the neighbors heard gunfire from their house. And he did this, Nick, I know he did. He's been abusing her for years – her face is full of fractures from the times he's hit her, and he's cleaned up blood all over the walls in that apartment, trying to cover his tracks."

"So, what's the problem?"

"Grissom and his bugs," Sara said, twisting her hands together. "According to his linear regression, she's been dead three days."

"Two shy of the mark."

"Yeah." Unexpected tears filled Sara's eyes. "And now her husband's going to walk, even though –"

Nick reached out to grab her hand. "There's always more evidence, Sara. You'll find a way to make it happen. I know you will."

She shook her head. "Not according to Grissom."

"Believe it or not, Grissom has been known to make mistakes," Nick said. "Catherine told me straight up that he's not always right. Maybe this is one of those times."

"Oh, I hope so, Nicky," Sara sighed. "I really, really hope so."

* * *

"What are you up to?"

Grissom looked up from the blanket he had spread across the table as Catherine walked into the evidence room. "Examining my evidence."

"Nick said that Sara said that your bugs proved that the husband is innocent," she commented.

"Good news travels fast," Grissom replied.

"Looking for another suspect?"

Grissom shook his head. "The husband is guilty. I just have to prove it."

"For whom?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're putting an awful lot of effort into proving a theory that is very near and dear to Sara."

Grissom looked at her evenly. "I'm putting an awful lot of effort into finding the truth."

"All right," Catherine said, holding up her hands and walking back toward the door. "I'm just saying …"

"Don't," Grissom said, cutting her off. "Just – I know what I'm doing, Cath."

"I'm not so sure of that," she said quietly, leaving him alone with his evidence.

* * *

Sara rushed through the lab, trying to find her supervisor. She had thought through what she had said to him earlier, and now realized that blaming him for the way that the insects had behaved was wholly unfair. She wanted to apologize. But, in order to do that, she needed to find him. She slowed her steps as she noticed Warrick coming toward her.

"Hey, have you seen Grissom?" Sara asked.

"Oh, yeah."

She gave him a questioning look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do you know what he's doing?"

"If I did, would I be looking for him?"

Warrick smiled. "I don't know what kind of power you have over that man, little girl, but he's outside with a pig wrapped in a blanket, trying to prove that your mountain lady died five days before she was found, not three."

"He – what?" Sara asked in surprise.

Warrick nodded. "I just saw him heading out. Talk to Brass if you don't believe me – he was chasing him down to find out what he's up to."

"I – wow. Thanks, Warrick."

"Anytime."

Sara took off again, and Warrick ducked into the break room, where Nick was drinking a cup of coffee.

"Do you know what's going on with Griss and Sara?"

Nick choked on his coffee. "Excuse me?"

"Grissom just had a frozen pig delivered so that he could wrap it in a blanket and watch bugs crawl all over it, all in the hopes of proving Sara's theory about their case."

Nick shrugged, looking considerably calmer. "Warrick, you're talking about _Grissom_. The man is into bugs. We've always known that."

"Yeah, but this seems extreme, even for him."

Nick shook his head. "Give it up. There is no way that anything other than science is going on between Grissom, Sara and that pig."

Warrick shrugged, but the incredulous look did not leave his eyes. "If you're sure …"

"I'm sure."

* * *

Grabbing a flashlight, Sara threw her backpack over her shoulder. She made her way outside, where Grissom was stationed with the pig. She paused just before entering his fenced enclosure. He looked like he was freezing, hunched over a notebook, making careful notations of the insect activity on the pig. Smiling slightly, she walked closer.

He looked up as she approached, giving her a slight smile. He pulled a box over for her to sit next to him. She sat down and unzipped her backpack. She pulled out a thermos of hot coffee, which she handed over. He gave her a grateful smile, but she wasn't done. While he opened the coffee, she pulled a fleece blanket out of her bag. She wrapped it around his shoulders, leaving her hand on his back a bit longer than was necessary.

"Thanks," she smiled.

He smiled back. "It's not just for you."

"I know," she said, wrapping another blanket around her own shoulders. "This is for Kaye. We're giving her a voice."

"I … I want to make sure we've done everything we can for her. I don't want her to haunt you forever."

Sara shivered involuntarily. "I'm sorry, Griss. I shouldn't have said the things that I did. It's not your fault that the insects did their job."

He shook his head. "It's my fault that I didn't match the conditions accurately. I deserved what you said."

"Even when I asked you to sleep with me?" she asked quietly.

He looked at her for a minute. "Sara …"

"No," she said, cutting him off. "I'm sorry, Grissom. I really am. You know how I meant it, you know that it was nonsexual, but that doesn't change the fact that it was inappropriate. You're my supervisor, and I –"

"I'm your friend first," Grissom said quietly, stopping her flow of words. "You were upset. When we're upset, we go to our friends, looking for answers and comfort. My answers were inadequate, and my comfort …."

"This is all the comfort I need," she said, waving her hand to indicate what they were doing. "You're right, Griss. You're my friend. But, while we're at work …"

"We're still friends. You, me, Catherine, Nick, Warrick … we're all friends, and I think it makes us better at what we do. We know that we can rely on one another." He paused. "Don't apologize for feeling deeply, Sara. It's part of who you are, and part of what makes you such a special person."

Sara flushed slightly and looked back at the pig. "I can't believe we killed a pig for this," she said, trying to take the conversation back to safer ground.

"It was going to be this or someone's dinner," Grissom said, following her subject change.

Sara scrunched up her face. "So much for ham for me."

Grissom smiled, then reached out to touch her hand. "Thank you, too."

"For what?" she asked in surprise.

"For reminding me of our job and the responsibility we hold. For reminding me to fight for the victims."

She smiled and closed her fingers around his. "You're welcome."

When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Thank you for being my friend."

Sara tightened her grip on his hand, even as she felt his fingers tighten around hers. "Thank you for being mine."


	8. Sound Advice

A/N: Thanks as always for reading and reviewing! You're the best!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Sound Advice_

"May I have this dance?"

"Of course," Sara smiled, reaching for Grissom's extended hand.

Returning her smile, he pulled her close. They began a waltz around the morgue, with Dr. Robbins playing the violin as accompaniment. David appeared, playing the piano, but it didn't sound like any piano Sara had ever heard before, it sounded like –

"Phone," she muttered groggily, struggling to wake up. She reached for the receiver on her nightstand, pushing the button to answer it. "Hello?"

"Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"It's Mary, sweetie. Oh, no, I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"Maybe a little …"

"Oh, Sara, I'm so sorry. I keep forgetting that you've become nocturnal."

"Ha ha," Sara said, waking up more fully. "What's up? Other than me, thanks to you."

"I am so sorry," Mary said again.

"Don't worry about it. I needed to get up, anyway."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure," Sara said. "Now, what's going on? How are you?"

"Fine," Mary replied. "Um … what are you doing this weekend? Are you working?"

"No, I have the weekend off. Well, Friday and Saturday nights, anyway," Sara replied. She smiled. "It's my first weekend off since I moved to Vegas. I'm sort of excited."

"Well, how would you like some company?"

"Some company?" Sara repeated blankly.

"Yeah," Mary said, her excitement obvious in her voice. "Spring break starts on Friday, and I thought that maybe I could come out to visit you."

"Mary!" Sara shrieked, jumping to sit up in bed. "Are you serious?"

"I wouldn't joke about something like this!" Mary exclaimed. "How 'bout it? Can I come?"

"Are you kidding?" Sara laughed. "When will you get here?"

"Friday night, if it's all right with you."

"Definitely!"

"Great! I have free tickets coming from the flight I was bumped off the last time I flew home, and I want to use them. I'm thinking of booking a flight coming in Friday night and flying out Sunday afternoon. How does that sound?"

"Such a short trip," Sara sighed.

"I know," Mary said. "But, I'm going to leave you to visit Tom for a few days …"

Sara laughed. "Always second to the boyfriend."

"Not really," Mary smiled. "I'll see you first."

"I can't wait," Sara said. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

"I know," Mary sighed. "I can't wait, either."

* * *

For the rest of the week, Sara could talk of nothing but Mary's impending visit. Her coworkers were infected by her enthusiasm, even if they had never met her former roommate.

"You'll come out with us one night, won't you?" Sara asked as they sat in the break room together, eating breakfast. "We can all go out for dinner or drinks or coffee … anything really. I want her to meet all of you."

"Of course," Nick replied at once. "I can't wait to meet her."

"I'm in," Greg agreed.

"Sure," Warrick said.

"Love to," Catherine added.

"Grissom?" Sara asked tentatively, noticing that he had not looked up from the journal he was reading. "Will you come out with us? I want you to meet Mary, too."

He looked up to see her looking straight at him. Her big, brown eyes were open wide, beseechingly, and he was falling into them, getting lost in them. He wondered if she knew how hard it was to deny her anything – from the simplest request to the most complex – when she looked at him like that.

"Grissom?" she asked again.

"Of course I'll come," he said.

Nick and Warrick looked at each other in surprise. They could rarely convince Grissom to go out with them – whether it was just the two of them or the entire team – but Sara had managed to get him out of his shell with one simple question. Catherine, too, raised her eyebrows. Maybe he was ready to get some personal stuff.

A beaming smile broke out across Sara's face at Grissom's response. "Thanks," she said. "I can't wait for you guys to meet her. You're all going to get along so well."

* * *

Thursday's shift went incredibly slowly for Sara. All she wanted to do was to go home so that she could sleep and get ready for Mary's Friday afternoon arrival. By the end of the shift, she was sitting alone in the break room, willing the time to go quickly until she was released from the lab.

"You know, I've heard that, contrary to popular belief, looking at your watch does _not_ make time go faster."

Sara looked at Nick with both annoyance and amusement. "You're a real comedian. You should have your own show on some cable network."

"You think so?" he asked, pretending to consider it. "Maybe I'll look into that."

"Do."

He smiled and sat down next to her. "You look bored."

"I am."

"Finished your case?"

"Yup."

"Isn't there some paperwork you could do?"

Sara just looked at him in disbelief.

"Right. You're Sara. Your paperwork was done on time, if not early."

"I'm not Grissom."

"Yeah, I think we're good with only one of him." Nick glanced around, making sure that they could not be overheard. "Look, shift ends in thirty minutes. If you want to leave now, I'll make sure that no one knows it."

"How on earth are you going to pull that off?"

"I'll send everyone who asks where you are on wild goose chases to find you."

"I don't know …"

"Oh, come on. You haven't taken a single sick day, vacation day or personal day all year. I think you're entitled to a little time."

"What if Grissom finds out? Won't I be in trouble?"

Nick glanced around again, then leaned in closer to her. "Look, between you and me, I think there's something to Warrick's theory that Grissom has a little thing for you."

Sara felt the heat rushing to her face as she blushed. "Why would you think that?"

Nick shrugged. "We're trained to look at the evidence. Once you start, you can't stop. It's a hazard of the job."

"Well, assuming you're right – which, incidentally, you're not – what do Grissom's personal feelings have to do with anything?"

"I'm just saying that he wouldn't care if you left early." Nick grinned. "Even if Warrick's completely off-base –"

"Which he is," Sara interrupted.

"Grissom still does care about you as a friend, and I'm sure he won't begrudge you the twenty-five minutes that you are now taking as personal time."

"You'll make my excuses?"

"To everyone who asks for you. Just leave now. If anyone sees you going out, say that you left something in your car, and you need to get it. If anyone sees you driving off, tell them that you need to check something at a crime scene."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "You're really good at this cover story stuff."

Nick shrugged. "You don't grow up with as many siblings as I have without getting good at cover stories. Someone was always trying to cover someone's tracks – not always their own, I might add. Don't worry, darlin'. I won't sell you out."

Sara smiled and stood up. "I owe you one."

"Good. You can buy me a drink when we go out tomorrow night."

"You've got it," Sara grinned. "Thanks, Nicky. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Sara."

Sara crept out of the lab with a stealth usually reserved for spies, and made her way to her car. By the time she pulled out of the parking lot, it was only ten minutes before shift ended. But, she reminded herself, she rarely made it this far into her homeward journey less than thirty minutes after the end of her shift, so Nick's advice had been well worth taking.

Once home, Sara cleaned her already immaculate apartment, then fell into bed for as much sleep as she could convince body to get before leaving to meet Mary's plane. An on and off insomniac, she was certain that this would be one day she would be completely unable to sleep.

* * *

Sara did manage to sleep. Perhaps she didn't get as much as she really needed, but it would be enough to get her though the day. Her nerves jangled as she drove to the airport. She couldn't believe that she would see her best friend in less than an hour. A grin spread across her face and showed no signs of fading. She hadn't been this happy and excited in a long time.

Thankfully, Mary's flight was on time. Sara didn't know if she would be able to handle a delay. She realized that it was probably a good thing that Mary had only given her a few days' notice of her visit. She wasn't sure that she could have survived waiting months to see her.

The plane docked at its gate, and passengers slowly began to trickle off. Sara stood alone, rocking slightly back and forth as she waited. She smiled as she thought of how she must have looked, but couldn't make herself stop. No one had ever accused her of being patient.

Finally, Mary stepped off the jet way. With a smothered shriek, she raced across the waiting area and threw herself at Sara. Laughing, Sara opened her arms to hug her friend tightly.

"I can't believe you're really here!" Sara exclaimed. "How was your flight?"

"Fine, fine," Mary said, pulling away. She grinned. "It's so great to see you, Sara."

"You, too," Sara smiled. "Did you check luggage?"

"Yeah."

"To baggage claim, then."

The girls collected Mary's suitcase, then drove to Sara's apartment. She gave Mary the tour, ending with the bedroom.

"I only have a one bedroom, so you're stuck sharing with me," she said, opening the door so that Mary could store her luggage inside.

"I think I can handle that," Mary said, putting her suitcase inside the room. She looked at Sara's large, queen size bed. "What made you buy such a big bed? You always had a double in our apartment."

"Because I liked it," Sara said as they walked back to the living room. "And, because you need a place to sleep when you come to visit me. We haven't shared a bed in years."

Mary grinned. "Well, as long as it was a rational decision."

"So, what do you want to do? Tour? Gamble? Shop?"

"Whatever you say, tour guide."

Sara smiled, remembering the last time she had played tour guide. That night she had taken Grissom out for dinner in San Francisco. "Well, tomorrow night we're going out with my coworkers. I really want you to meet them. Other than that, I don't have anything definite planned."

"I get to meet them?" Mary asked, an excited sparkle jumping into her eyes. "All of them?"

"All of them." Sara sat down on the couch. She had a feeling this wasn't going to be a quick conversation.

"Even Grissom?" Mary asked, sitting down next to her.

"Yes, even Grissom."

Mary giggled. "I thought I wasn't allowed to meet him until you were engaged to marry him."

"That was back when I thought that I _would_ marry him someday."

"You've given up hope?"

"On the institution of marriage? Years ago."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Yes, Miss Feminist, I already knew that. I meant, have you given up on Grissom?"

"Pretty much," Sara sighed. "He's killing me, Mar. Every time I decide that it's never going to happen, he does something that makes me think that he cares about me."

"Did anything come of your conversation about the Delta Incident?"

"Not really. He did make some rather suggestive comments – you know, flirty – for awhile, but he's backed off." She looked disappointed for a moment, then brightened. "But, according to Nick and Warrick, the fact that he's willing to come out for drinks with us is amazing."

"Not exactly a social butterfly?"

"Quite the opposite."

"Well, I'll reserve judgment until after I've met him," Mary said. "Now, I believe you suggested shopping?"

Sara nodded with a grin. "Get your purse."

* * *

"What are you wearing tonight?"

"That," Sara said, pointing to the frilly tank top and dark jeans she had laid across her bed.

"Heels?"

"Always."

Mary smiled. "So, not the fanciest of places, but not a dress-down event?"

"Well put," Sara smiled.

Mary nodded and began to dig through her suitcase. "I'm a little nervous," she admitted.

"Why?" Sara asked in surprise. "I'm sure whatever clothes you choose will be fine. You have great taste."

"Thanks," Mary smiled. "But I'm not worried about my clothes."

"What are you worried about, then?"

Mary shrugged. "I don't know … it's almost like I'm meeting your boyfriend for the first time."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Mar, we've been over this. Grissom is _not_ my boyfriend."

"I didn't mean like that," Mary said, selecting a denim skirt. "I just meant that everyone I'm meeting tonight means a lot to you, and it's a little intimidating to meet them."

"Don't be intimidated," Sara said. "They're great. You're going to love them."

"I'm sure I will," Mary said, rejecting several tops. "I just can't help being a little nervous."

"Well, you don't need to be."

"I know." She finally found the silky top she wanted. "How's this?"

"Beautiful."

"Great. I have an outfit."

Sara smiled. "Look, I'm going to take a shower before we go. Can you amuse yourself for a little bit?"

Mary smiled and picked up the remote. "That's why God invented cable."

* * *

Although she was reluctant to admit it after all the bolstering comments she had made earlier, Sara was a nervous wreck as she and Mary drove to the bar where they were to meet her coworkers for drinks. She wanted so desperately for everyone to get along, but was worried that it wouldn't work out.

Catherine and Warrick were already there when they arrived. They had commandeered a large table, which they were saving for the group.

"Come on," Sara said, leading Mary across the room.

"Hey, Sara," Catherine smiled as they approached.

"Hi," Sara said, sitting down across from them. "This is Mary, guys. Mary, this is Catherine and this is Warrick."

"Hi," Mary said, shaking hands.

"It's great to meet you," Catherine said. "We've heard a lot about you."

"Oh, really?" Mary smiled.

"All good," Warrick said with a wink. "Sara thinks very highly of you."

Mary grinned at Sara. "Well, I think very highly of her, too."

Sara smiled. "I'll make sure that I pay everyone off before the end of the night. That was ten bucks each, right?"

They were all still laughing when Greg appeared, his hair spikier than usual for the occasion. He grinned as he sat down next to Mary.

"Hi," he said, reaching out to shake her hand. "Greg Sanders. You must be Mary."

"Yes, I am," she smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Greg."

Greg looked at Sara around Mary. "You didn't tell us how pretty she is."

Sara laughed. "Sorry, Greg. Next time I have a friend in town, I'll make sure you get head shots first."

"Hey, you guys didn't start the party without me, did you?"

"Nick!" Sara exclaimed.

"Hi, darlin'," Nick smiled, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

"This is Mary," Sara said, indicating her friend.

"Hi, Mary," Nick grinned, shaking her hand. "Welcome to Vegas."

"Thanks," she smiled.

Nick walked around to sit next to Warrick, across from Greg. "Are we drinking yet? Sara owes me a beer."

"Why?" Warrick asked.

Sara smiled and gave Nick a disbelieving look. "For reasons that Nick promised to keep quiet, or he won't get his beer."

Nick laughed. "You're making it sound very torrid, sweetheart."

"Okay, out with it. What is going on between you two?" Catherine asked.

Sara smiled. "Okay, I can tell you, but Grissom can't find out."

"Fair enough."

"I wanted to leave work early on Friday morning so I could get some sleep before Mary got here. So, Nick promised to cover for me, and I ducked out early."

"Does this mean you don't owe me a beer? They all know now!"

"You told me she was in the locker room on Friday morning, but I couldn't find her anywhere!" Catherine exclaimed. "I was so convinced that I kept missing her." She turned from Nick to Sara. "He did a good job. You owe him that beer."

Laughing, Sara stood up. "Okay, I'll take orders. What does everyone want?"

"Beer," everyone said in unison. They all laughed at themselves.

"That's easy enough," Sara smiled.

"I'll help you carry stuff back," Mary said, standing up.

"Me, too," Greg offered.

Nick and Warrick exchanged a look and a smile.

Sara stood at the bar waiting for the six beers she had ordered, listening to Greg tell Mary inane stories to make her laugh. She didn't notice anyone approaching until a hand touched her arm. She jumped and turned to see Grissom standing behind her.

"Hi," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Grissom!" she exclaimed. "You came!"

"I said I would," he smiled. He nodded toward Greg and Mary. "Is that your friend with Greg, or he find did himself a friend of his own?"

"No, that's Mary," Sara laughed. She reached out to grab Mary's wrist, pulling her out of her conversation with Greg. "Mary, this is Grissom, our supervisor."

"Hi," Mary said, holding out her hand to shake his. "It's great to finally meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine," Grissom said, giving her a smile. He glanced around. "Are the others here? I thought I was running late."

"Yeah, they have a table over there. We're just getting drinks. Can we get you one?"

"Sure."

"We're playing delivery service," Greg offered. "If you want to sit down, we'll bring them back."

"Thanks," Grissom smiled, turning to join the others.

Mary gave Sara a significant look. "He seems nice."

"Nice? Grissom?" Greg laughed. "He's a little scary."

"Here are your beers," the bartender said, putting six bottles down in front of Sara.

"Thanks. Oh, hey, we need one more."

The man nodded and added another. "Twenty-eight dollars all together."

Sara threw down money to cover the drinks and a tip, then passed bottles to her assistants. "To the table."

"Right," Greg said, leading the way.

They arrived at their table and passed out the bottles of beer to a chorus of "thanks" from the group. Sara resumed her seat at the end of the table, with Mary beside her and Catherine across from her. Grissom was seated at the opposite end of the table, next to Nick. Noticing this, Mary leaned in closer.

"How are you with the seating arrangements?" she asked quietly.

"It's fine," Sara shrugged.

"Sar …"

"What?" Sara asked defensively. "Drop it."

Mary nodded and took a sip of her beer.

"So, Mary, Sara tells us you're working on a doctorate?" Catherine said, obviously trying to make Mary feel comfortable with them.

"That's right," Mary agreed.

"I've always liked smart girls," Greg said, putting his arm across the back of Mary's chair.

"Down boy," Warrick grinned. "You be nice to Sara's friend."

"I'm being very nice," Greg replied. "I'm just trying to make her feel welcome."

Laughter rang out throughout the table; it was clear that everyone thought Greg's cover for hitting on Mary was flimsy at best. He grinned along with them.

"I hate you investigator types," he said. "You see through all my cover stories."

"Damn straight," Warrick laughed. "So, watch what you say. Don't you remember the first time that Nick and I took you drinking with us?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Greg said, flushing slightly.

"Oh, how could you have forgotten?" Nick laughed. He glanced up and down the table at the others. "That would be the night that our boy tried to convince a lovely young lady that he worked at Area 51, and had seen aliens."

"She said she liked science fiction," Greg said.

"Right," Warrick agreed. "And you told her that you were the source who gave the sci-fi writers their material. Apparently, all sci-fi books are based on real encounters Greg has had with other life forms on the job."

"Tell me she didn't believe that," Catherine said, closing her eyes.

"He did sort of shoot himself in the foot when he couldn't name a single sci-fi author," Nick chuckled.

"At least I didn't tell a girl that I'm a cowboy," Greg said, giving Nick a scathing look.

"I _am_, doofus," Nick laughed. "I grew up on a ranch in Texas."

"And traded it all to chase the criminals of Las Vegas," Warrick grinned. "I'll admit, Nicky, that it is a bit of a stretch – childhood notwithstanding."

Chatter broke out all around the table as other stories began to surface. Catherine admitted to routinely giving a fake name and number to the guys who hit on her in bars; Warrick admitted to receiving a few fake names and numbers. Nick and Greg both confessed to giving out their business cards to girls in bars, hoping that their jobs would make them seem more impressive.

After three beers, the stories became dirtier. Catherine admitted to having sex in a bar restroom; Warrick confessed to doing so in a bar parking lot. Both Nick and Greg stated that they had had sex in past girlfriends' parents' houses.

"What do you have for us, Sara?" Greg asked.

Sara took another sip of her drink. "I'm a member of the mile high club."

Catherine's jaw dropped. "Are you serious?"

"She is," Mary, who, like Sara, was feeling quite mellow, affirmed. "Even Grissom knows about that, right?"

Four head swiveled in unison to stare at Grissom. He smiled.

"You knew?" Catherine exclaimed.

"I did."

"And you didn't tell us?" she demanded, highly affronted.

"Maybe I'm better at keeping secrets than you, dear," he said.

Catherine shook her head. "I'm in a parallel universe. That is the only explanation for what's happening here."

Laughing, Grissom reached down to answer his ringing cell phone. He stood up and made his way out of the bar to talk.

"You told _Grissom_?" Catherine asked.

"It was … case related."

"How?"

Sara giggled. "Remember that couple from the airplane case?"

"Oh, right," Warrick said. "They were card carrying members of the mile high club."

"Well … let's just say that I had to explain how I knew what was going on in that bathroom."

Everyone was still laughing when Grissom returned. He stopped next to Sara, putting his hand on her arm and leaning down to talk to her.

"I'm so sorry to do this," he said. "But, I just got called out to a scene. Apparently, there's a dead body with a lot of insect activity, and the coroner is having a rough time pinpointing time of death."

"Go," Sara said at once.

"I'm sorry," Grissom said again. "I know you had this whole evening planned …"

"Don't worry about it," Sara replied. "You need to do your job, Griss."

"Thanks," he said. "I'll see you at work tomorrow night."

"Right."

He stood up and moved to her other side. "Mary, it was very nice meeting you."

"You're leaving?"

"Yes, I am. I was just called in to work."

"Oh, well, it was nice meeting you, too," she smiled. "I hope we'll see each other again."

"Of course," he replied. "You'll be back to see Sara again, won't you?"

"Yeah, I will," Mary said, giving Sara a smile.

"Good." He straightened up again, and called a good bye to the others.

"Well, Grissom's gone," Greg said as their supervisor left the bar. "Can we bust out the _really_ wrong stories now?"

Everyone laughed again, and Warrick flagged down a waiter to order another round.

* * *

It was late when the completely sobered up Sara and Mary returned to Sara's apartment. Although they were both tired, they were both reluctant to go to bed on their last night together. They collapsed onto the couch to discuss their evening.

"So, what did you think of everyone?"

"They're nice," Mary smiled. "That Greg is something else."

"That sums him up pretty well," Sara laughed.

"Nick is a great guy, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is," Sara smiled. "He's the one you'd want to take home to meet your parents."

"Are you …?"

Sara shook her head. "He's like a brother to me. He has been since my first day, really."

Mary nodded.

"What did you think of Warrick and Catherine?"

"Are they dating?" she asked at once.

Sara shook her head. "Not that I know of."

"They're cool, though."

"Yeah. Cath's a little tough, but she's one hell of a loyal friend."

"I could see that." Mary stopped without discussing Grissom. She knew that Sara was dying to hear her thoughts about him, but wanted to make her work for it.

"You're going to make me ask, aren't you?" Sara sighed.

Mary smiled. "Maybe."

"Fine," Sara replied. "What do you think of Grissom?"

"Honest answer?"

"Absolutely."

Mary sighed. "He seems like a really nice guy. Upstanding. Sort of Nick-ish in the 'take him home to meet your parents' thing. But, Sara, I think he's married to his job."

"He's a workaholic," Sara nodded. "But, so am I. So are you, if you get right down to it."

"Yeah, but I don't know … it just feels different with him." She bit her lip. "I'd forget him, Sara. Find yourself someone who will be willing to put you first, not his job."

Sara shook her head. "You don't get it, Mar. With this job … the job _always_ comes first."

"Hey, you know what's best for you," Mary said. "I'm just saying … I would find a distraction, if I were you."

"I don't need a distraction. Grissom and I are coworkers and friends, and that's where it ends. I'm fine with that."

"All right," Mary said noncommittally. "I'm just worried about you, Sara."

"Don't be," Sara said almost defiantly. "I'm fine."


	9. Distractions

A/N: I'm not entirely sure about this chapter … it's another one that's gotten a ton of rewrites. I hope you like it.

Thanks as always for reading and reviewing! (Hopefully you will) Enjoy!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Distractions_

Teri never called back.

Grissom knew that he should have seen it coming. In the end, the smart, nerdy guy never got the girl. He had learned that rule in high school, and had seen it played out again and again in his life.

He didn't try to call her again. If she had truly been interested, she would have returned his first call.

He never would have seen her again if it hadn't been for Catherine. Catherine, and an elderly woman with very little money and upper body strength. The woman, unable to afford a funeral, had cut her deceased husband's body into small pieces so that she could dump it in the desert. By the time the first piece of the body was found, the elements, wild animals and insects had attacked it, leaving nothing but pieces of bones. Grissom, Catherine and Nick found themselves with the intricate task of putting their victim back together.

After spending what felt like forever staring at bone fragments and textbook charts, Grissom knew that Catherine was at the end of her rope. Nick soldiered on like the good sport that he always was, but Catherine couldn't take it. She mentioned calling Teri for help more than once, citing her expertise in this area. Grissom denied her request each time.

He should have known that Catherine never listened to him. He should have known better than to think that she would abide by his wishes. But, as it was, he didn't realize that she had gone so far as to call in Teri without telling him until Teri herself walked into the room.

Their first meeting was awkward, to say the least. But, once the awkwardness had mellowed to the point of being bearable, she apologized for not calling him back … and asked him if he was still interested.

And so, forty-eight hours later, he found himself standing outside her hotel room door, knocking gently on the painted wood. When she opened the door, he literally felt as though his breath had indeed been taken away.

She looked stunning. She was always pretty, but away from work, she was a classically gorgeous woman. Even her waved and pinned hair recalled starlets of the golden age of cinema.

Grissom could hardly believe the situation. It was like something out of a life quite unlike his own, something he had barely allowed himself to dream of having. They had dinner together, talking, laughing and enjoying one another's company. He was just beginning to think of their next activity – a Vegas show – when he was paged.

Teri was understanding about the first several pages. It wasn't until his cell phone rang that she began to show her irritation. But, Grissom was helpless. His job was to be the lab's entomology expert, and this was a case that required his services.

He closed his phone and turned to ask Teri if he could take a rain check on the show. She was gone. He stared at her empty chair and lipstick-stained napkin and sighed. He should have known that things would end like this.

The smart, nerdy guy never got the girl.

* * *

"Okay, here we go. Catherine, Warrick, you're with me on a high school shooting."

"Oh, man," Warrick said. "How many kids?"

"Just one. He was shot in the restroom."

"Sounds like fun," Catherine said sardonically.

"Right," Grissom said. "Nick, Sara … do either of you have problems with motion sickness?"

"No," they said in unison, both highly confused.

"Excellent," Grissom said, sliding an assignment slip toward them. "You've got a decomp in the mountains. You're going to need to take a helicopter ride to get there."

"I haven't been in a helicopter in ages," Sara said enthusiastically.

"Enjoy," Grissom said. "Okay, I think that's everything. Let's get to work."

Grissom, Catherine and Warrick left at once, leaving Sara and Nick alone. Nick looked at Sara a bit apprehensively.

"Have you worked a decomp before?"

"No," she admitted. "Have you?"

Nick shook his head. "First time for everything, right?"

Sara grinned. "I'm glad my first time could be with you, Nick."

He laughed and shook his head. "Come on. Let's go catch our helicopter ride."

* * *

"You were flirting with him!"

"I was not," Sara said forcefully.

"You were, too," Nick laughed. "You were totally flirting with that EMT over a dead body! And, let me tell you, that barely even counts as a body, it's so decomposed."

Sara made a face. "Would you prefer I flirt with you?"

"No, that's okay," Nick said with a wink. "You can flirt with Hank all you want. Just … pick a better setting next time. And, try not to spend forever staring at him when we've got to get back to the morgue. Doc Robbins won't wait forever."

Sara rolled her eyes. "That body isn't going anywhere, Nick. It's not like the guy is going to come back to life."

"Yeah, but, we're not the only ones with a dead body that needs an autopsy tonight."

"You just want to get me in trouble!" Sara laughed.

"No, not really," Nick smiled. "I just want to give you a hard time."

Sara shook her head with a smile. "If I wanted a brother …"

"You've got one," Nick grinned. "I'm right here, waiting to play the role of your brother – a role, I might add, that was sadly lacking in your life until now."

Sara shook her head. "I wouldn't say that."

"I would."

* * *

"Okay, that was a whole new level of gross."

"Do you think that Grissom's right? Will lemons really get the smell out?"

"Do we really smell that bad?"

Nick and Sara looked at each other and grimaced.

"Yeah, we do," they said together.

"Oh, man, and this is all those human fatty compounds … we're going to need like ten lemon showers," Nick sighed.

"Assuming Grissom's right about the lemons," Sara said, obviously more than a little concerned that there was no hope for them.

"He wouldn't joke about something like that," Nick replied.

Sara glanced back through the glass window into the autopsy room. David was still washing the liquefied mess that had been a living, breathing person down the drain. "Poor David. At least we get to escape the smell."

"One of us," Nick grinned. "You have to process the jacket that's been in that bag baking with liquid man for the past few months."

Sara screwed up her face. "You could take it."

"And why, might I ask, would I do that?"

"It would be the gentlemanly thing to do."

Nick laughed. "I thought you didn't want to be treated like a girly girl."

"I'm willing to make exceptions in cases of extreme grossness."

"The problem is, darlin', that our definition of 'gross' tends to be a bit different than the average person's."

"Relevance?" Sara asked, raising an eyebrow.

Nick grinned. "Nothing is too gross for you. Enjoy the jacket."

* * *

"Hi."

Judy looked up with a smile. "May I help you?"

"I'm looking for Sara Sidle. Can you tell me where to find her?"

"She's in the lab, processing," Judy said. "Would you like me to page her for you?"

"No, thank you," Hank smiled. "I'll find her."

"All right, then."

He set off into the lab, anxious to find the pretty CSI who had teased him at their crime scene. He had never met anyone like her – and he intended to get to know her a bit better.

* * *

Nick had joined Sara to help process the jacket when Hank found them. They were standing across a table from each other in a small room that reeked of death. Sara left to talk to her visitor. Nick could hardly blame her. If the two of them couldn't stand the smell in the room – Sara had just vomited into a trash can – how could they expect someone who was used to dealing with live bodies to handle it?

Sara was back remarkably quickly, considering how long she had spent flirting with Hank at the scene. Nick looked at her questioningly.

"What happened?"

"He wanted me to go out for dinner with him," she said.

"That's great! Your flirtiness paid off. When are you going?"

"He wanted to go now."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Even if I change …"

"Yeah, this smell isn't coming off. Did you make plans to go another time?"

"No," she said angrily. "I reek, Nick. He could barely stand to be that close to me long enough to ask me out for dinner tonight. How exactly was I going to suggest some other time? He practically ran away from me!"

"Hey," Nick said gently, "it's okay." Growing up with as many sisters as he had, he knew that emotional screaming of that caliber was usually followed by emotional tears. He was anxious to avoid that, if at all possible.

"It's not okay!" she yelled. "Grissom tells me that I need to get a life, but, I'll tell you, Nicky, that's going to be tough when I smell like death all the time!"

"Smell like death?" Nick repeated.

"That's what Greg said."

Nick rolled his eyes. "You're listening to Greg now?"

She bit her lip. "Greg also said that a real man wouldn't care."

"Greg is right," Nick said immediately.

Sara smiled in spite of herself. "You seem to have done a 180 about him in a very short amount of time."

"Hey, when he's right, he's right," Nick said. "I've been with you the whole time, and I haven't run from you. Greg stopped to chat with you. We aren't put off by the smell. If Hank is, that's his problem."

"Yeah, but you guys are used to this," Sara said. "You understand the job."

"If Hank is that easily repulsed by your job, he's not the guy for you."

"I guess you're right."

"I know I am," Nick nodded. "You're a special girl, Sara, and you deserve a special guy."

Sara smiled. "Thanks, Nick."

"Anytime."

* * *

Sara fumbled her way into her apartment, juggling her purse, field kit, keys and a grocery bag full of lemons. She made it as far as the kitchen, where everything was dumped unceremoniously onto the counter. She then picked her way through her belongings, putting everything into its appropriate home.

After slicing the lemons, she put them into a large plastic bag for easier transport into the shower. She was walking through the living room on her way into the bathroom when she noticed the message light blinking on her answering machine. Frowning slightly, she pushed the button to play back the messages.

"Hi, Sara, this is Hank Pettigrew. I'm sorry I pretty much ran out on you earlier. I'll tell you, I don't know how you do your job. Anyway, I wanted to see if we could do dinner another day – maybe one of your days off? Give me a call, and we'll try to schedule something."

Sara stared at the machine in shock as she listened to Hank rattle off his phone number and say good bye. Maybe Nick and Greg were right – a real man wouldn't care about how she smelled.

That thought did nothing to deter her from taking a very hot, lemony shower.

* * *

"So, what happened when you called him back?"

"I haven't." Sara sat curled up on her bed, her hair still wet from her shower, telling Mary the entire story of her meeting with Hank.

"What do you mean? You called me first? That's just silly. You had to know that I'd want the whole story!"

"You have the whole story," Sara said.

"The whole story up till now," Mary agreed. "But, I want to hear about what happens when you call him back!" She paused. "Call him now, then call me back and tell me what he says."

"No, Mar … I'm not calling him back."

"What do you mean? Why not?"

Sara sighed. "I smelled like death."

"But, he was okay with it."

"I can't do it."

"Sara, you're being ridiculous. Call the man back."

"No!" Sara exclaimed. "I don't care what Grissom says about me needing a distraction from work, or what you say about me needing a distraction from Grissom. I can't subject other people to me. This is a tough line of work for people to understand. It's all-consuming."

"It's all-consuming because that's how you make it," Mary argued. "Catherine was married. She has a little girl."

"_Was_ married," Sara replied. "Notice that she's not anymore."

"Did they break up over her job?"

"No …"

"I rest my case."

"You're not a lawyer," Sara sighed.

"And you're not being very rational," Mary shot back. She sighed. "Is there nothing I can say that will convince you that calling Hank back is a good idea?"

"Probably not."

"Fine. Just promise me that you'll think about calling him back."

"That I'll think about it?"

"Yeah. Just … consider it as an option."

Sara sighed. "All right. I'll consider it."

"Good," Mary smiled. "That's all I ask … for now."

* * *

Sara did follow through on her promise to Mary. She considered calling Hank back. But, as the days stretched into a week, then two, she knew she couldn't do it. She let herself get buried in her work, in the new cases that were always there for her to investigate. Hank drifted to the back of her mind.

* * *

"A fetish club? We're at a _fetish_ _club_?" Nick asked in shock.

"Whips, chains and all," Catherine replied.

"Man," Nick said. "This is unbelievable."

"Somewhere else you'd rather be?" Catherine asked lightly. "This is where our vic worked. As far as we know, this is the last place she was seen alive."

Nick looked at her evenly. "I want to be on the case."

"Good. Then you can help me work the perimeter."

"Where are Brass and Grissom?"

"Inside."

Nick grinned. "Doing what?"

Catherine shook her head. "Interviewing the owner."

"And the owner is …?"

"A dominatrix," Catherine nodded.

"Oh, man," Nick laughed. "Greg is so jealous of us right now …"

Catherine laughed with him. "Evidence, Nicky. You can give Greg a hard time when we get back to the lab."

* * *

As the evidence mounted, the criminalists spent more and more time at the fetish club, getting to know Lady Heather, the dominatrix who owned it. Their latest victim had worked there, and by all accounts, had been killed in the line of duty. Although Catherine, Grissom and Brass all spent time talking to her, Catherine and Grissom were the ones who developed a liking for her. Brass and Nick shared the opinion that Lady Heather and those who sought her services were freakish in nature.

"I don't see why Gil is so into this dominatrix," Brass commented as he and Catherine ate lunch together.

Catherine raised her eyebrows.

"He doesn't seem the type," Brass shrugged.

"I don't know," Catherine said. "When it comes down to it, _his_ fetish is deviant behavior. Anything that goes against the norm is incredibly intriguing to him. Knowing him, he's there checking out the masks, whips and chains without even looking at the people in the building – including Lady Heather."

Brass shook his head. "I saw the way he looked at her. I think he's a little smitten."

"Grissom? Smitten? Those are two words that don't often go together."

"But, this time, I think they do."

Catherine looked at him closely. "Do you know something that you're not telling me, Jim?"

"Nope," Brass replied. "Not yet, anyway."

* * *

Grissom had gone to visit their new favorite dominatrix again, this time with pictures of their suspect. Catherine was sitting in his office waiting to talk to him when he returned.

"How did it go with Lady Heather?"

"Fine," he said shortly.

Catherine raised her eyebrows. "Um … I think I'm going to need a bit more information than that, Gil."

"She said that she had seen the suspect before."

"At work?"

"At work," Grissom confirmed.

Catherine studied him for a moment, noting the completely out of character vacant look in his eyes and erratic mannerisms he displayed as he wandered around his office. "She really got to you, didn't she?"

Grissom looked at Catherine as though he had no earthly idea what she was saying. "Who really go to me?"

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Always so oblivious. Lady Heather? Remember her? Tall, brunette, beautiful? Dominatrix? Does any of this sound familiar?"

"Are you interrogating me?"

Catherine smiled. "Are you avoiding my questions?"

"Maybe."

Her smile widened. "She did! She did get to you! Look at you – you're practically an emotional wreck over her!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Like hell you don't!"

Grissom sighed. "Can we please drop this, Catherine?"

"Sure … for now."

* * *

Grissom sat at his desk for a long time after Catherine had left. He stared off into space, thinking of the afternoon he had just shared with Lady Heather.

The fact that she was beautiful didn't mean much. Oh, it did have meaning – Grissom could certainly appreciate beauty. But, her physical appearance wasn't what had him so rattled.

It was that she claimed to know him. And, perhaps even worse, she did seem to know him.

In just a few short visits, she had managed to glean more information about him than anyone ever had before. Even Catherine and Brass didn't realize half of what she had discovered about him through simple observation.

Most disturbingly, she knew how he feared being known. The very idea of being fully understood by another human being terrified him.

Yet, somehow …

He wondered what it would be like to be known by her.


	10. Getting a Life

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you like this chapter.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration is from episode 212, "You've Got Male."

* * *

_Getting a Life_

Sara sat alone in her apartment, reading an article in one of her many forensics journals. Soft music played in the background; it was the only sound aside from the turning of the pages as Sara read them. She felt perfectly content to spend her day off in this calm solitude.

Her quiet sanctuary was shattered by the ringing of the phone. Marking her place in the magazine, she put it down on the coffee table and reached for her ringing phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sara!"

"Hi, Mary," she smiled. "What are you up to?"

"I have big news!" Mary exclaimed.

"Okay, let's hear it," Sara encouraged.

"I'm engaged!" Mary practically yelled.

"What?" Sara exclaimed.

"Tom just proposed! We're getting married!"

"My God, Mary!" Sara exclaimed. "That's incredible! Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Mary said, her beaming smile carrying over the phone line to Sara. "You'll be my maid of honor, won't you?"

"Of course," Sara said without thinking. "When is the wedding?"

"Oh, we don't know yet," Mary replied. "We've been engaged for about five minutes. You're the first person I've called."

"You called me before your parents?"

"They'll keep me on the phone forever," Mary said. "I wanted to let you know as soon as possible."

"Well, thanks."

"Here, Tom wants to say hi."

"Okay."

She could hear the phone changing hands. Muffled voices were just barely audible in the background for a moment, then Tom's deep baritone filled her ears.

"Hi, Sara," he said.

"Congratulations!" she said in greeting.

"Thanks," he laughed. "Hey, Sara, I just wanted to thank you. It's because of you that I met Mary, and because of you that I had the courage to ask her out. Without you, I know I wouldn't be here right now."

Sara smiled. "Well, you're welcome. Just … be good to her."

"I always am," Tom said.

"I know."

"Okay, Mary's trying to tell me that she wants the phone back, so … thanks again, Sara. You really are the best."

Sara smiled. "I just want both of you to be happy."

"We are."

* * *

Sara couldn't stop thinking about Mary and Tom's engagement the next day as she walked into the break room to have her ritual cup of coffee to kick off her shift. She had never been a huge fan of weddings or marriage, but it looked as though she would have a ring-side seat for this one. _Maid of honor_. She wanted to roll her eyes at the very thought.

Grissom poked his head into the break room, cutting off her thoughts. "Sara, are you busy?"

Sara looked up from the coffee she was stirring. "I suppose the coffee can wait."

"Bring it along," Grissom said.

"Where are we going?" she asked, following him out of the break room.

"Henderson."

"Dare I ask why?"

"DB in a convenience store."

"Sounds like fun."

Grissom smiled. "I thought you'd say that. I'll meet you outside."

Sara nodded and went to collect her things. Knowing Grissom, she didn't have much time before they would leave.

She was right; he was waiting when she walked outside. He pressed the button on the key fob to unlock the SUV's doors, and Sara put her field kit in the backseat before climbing into the passenger seat.

"So, how was your day off?" Grissom asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

Sara looked at him with a curious expression. She wasn't about to tell him about her new role as maid of honor. Somehow, she wanted to keep that one to herself. "Fine."

Grissom chanced looking away from the road to glance at her. "What did you do?"

"Why do you care?" Sara asked a bit more forcefully than she had intended.

"I'm not allowed to be interested in your life?"

She shrugged. "You haven't shown much of an interest in the past."

"That's not fair, Sara. Who helped you get your first job? Who brought you here to work in our lab? I think I've been very interested."

"You're right," Sara said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Grissom nodded. "So, your day off …"

"I just relaxed," Sara said. "I caught up on some reading. It was a low-key day."

Grissom nodded again. "Not a bad idea after the week we had."

"Yeah, two doubles and a triple," Sara said. "Not exactly relaxing."

"Just don't …"

"Don't what?"

Grissom sighed. "Don't spend every day off like that."

"Griss …"

"I'm worried about you, Sara," he said. "I'm worried that you're too … consumed with this job."

"Aren't we supposed to be into the job? Isn't that what makes a good CSI? Dedication?" A slight edge to Sara's voice gave away the anger that was bubbling just below the surface.

"Yes, of course, I want you to be dedicated," Grissom said patiently. "But, there is such a thing as going too far. We've talked about this before. If you get too involved, it gets to be too much. That doesn't make a good CSI; that makes a CSI who's been pushed into early retirement. That's not what I want for you, Sara."

She looked straight ahead, pursing her lips. "I'm fine, Grissom."

"You'll find something to do outside of work? Outside of law enforcement?"

"I'm fine," she repeated.

* * *

"Okay, I'm off. I have a little girl waiting to for her mother to kiss her before she leaves for school."

"Bye, Catherine," Nick smiled. "Tell Lindsey hi for me."

"I will," she promised. "See you guys tonight."

Catherine set off down the hall, her mind already home with her daughter. She could see the light peeking out of Grissom's office door as she approached; she ducked in to see him sitting at his desk.

"Hey, Gil, I'm going home," she said.

"Catherine," he said, looking up. "Do you have a minute?"

"Of course," she said in confusion, walking all the way into the cluttered office. "What's up?"

"I need you to do something for me."

"A new case?"

"No," Grissom said slowly. "A favor."

"Name it," she said without hesitation.

"Would you … talk to Sara?"

"Talk to Sara?" Catherine sat down across the desk from her supervisor. "About what?"

Grissom paused and licked his lips. "I'm worried about her. I'm afraid that she's getting too … involved with her work."

"You think she's becoming a workaholic?"

"Yes."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Well, Pot, I'm so excited that you've decided to call out the Kettle."

"There's a difference," Grissom said. "I know when to stop. I know my limits. I know how to relax, how to put cases behind me. I know how to leave my emotions at the door." He paused again. "She can't do that yet."

"And you want me to teach her how?"

"She needs to learn it somehow," Grissom said. "She's a great CSI, and I don't want to lose her."

"Have you said something to her?"

"I've tried talking to her, Cath, but she won't listen to me. I don't know how to reach her."

"Well, what makes you think that I'd have more luck?"

"We both know that you're the people person."

Catherine smiled slightly. "You really think you're wooing me right now, don't you?"

"Is it working?" Grissom asked hopefully.

Catherine shook her head. "Fine, I'll talk to her. I can't promise success, but I'll do my best."

"If you do your best, you'll succeed," Grissom said confidently.

* * *

It was several days before Catherine had the chance to talk to Sara. They were assigned different cases, and only ran into each other for moments at a time at the lab. Finally, she found her opportunity. She had just wrapped her case, and was ready to leave for the day. Walking into the locker room, she found Sara slamming her locker shut. The purse over her shoulder and jacket in her hand told Catherine that she wasn't the only one on her way out for the day.

"Hey, Sara."

Sara gave her a smile. "Hi, Catherine. Nick said that you solved your case?"

"Yup. It's all up to the DA now."

"Good. Well, I'm off. I'll see you later."

"Sara, wait."

Sara stopped in the doorway and turned to look at her again. She raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question.

"What are you doing?"

"Um … leaving?" Sara ended her question with an _isn't it obvious?_ tone.

"Okay, let me rephrase. Where are you headed?"

"Home."

Catherine looked at her for a moment. "Do you want to go grab breakfast?"

Sara's eyes narrowed slightly. "Have you been talking to Grissom?"

"About what?" Catherine's face was the perfect study of ignorance and confusion.

Sara sighed. "Never mind. Sure, breakfast sounds great."

_Take that, Grissom. I _do_ go out socially._

* * *

Catherine selected one of her favorite diners, which she swore had good vegetarian food. Sara laughed at her.

"How would you know?"

"Hey, I don't live on meat alone, you know," Catherine smiled, passing her a menu. "You know, I really admire you for this vegetarianism. I don't think I could pull it off."

"Well, it's easier for me than it would be for you," Sara said. "I don't have to worry about forcing a family into different eating habits."

"Yeah, I think Lindsey would kill me if I cut off her Happy Meals."

Sara opened her menu. "You were right; this is a great selection." She looked up. "Why don't we all come here more often?"

"All of us? The whole team?"

"Why not?"

Catherine looked thoughtful. "We haven't gone out together in ages. We used to do it all the time … maybe it's time to start again."

Sara smiled. "One big, happy family?"

Catherine nodded. "I think that we are."

Sara nodded. "Honestly, I can't believe how close this team is. The team I worked with in San Francisco was nothing like this."

"How so?"

"Let's put it this way: I never went out for breakfast with any of them."

The waitress came to take their orders, effectively stopping their conversation. Once she had gone, Catherine looked at Sara with a smile.

"So, Miss Sara, how are you settling in?"

Sara frowned slightly. "I've been here for a year and a half, Catherine. I'm pretty much settled."

"It's a big city," Catherine said. "It can take some getting used to."

"I like it," Sara said. "I'd rather live in a city than outside it."

"Well, there's certainly more to do in the city," Catherine said.

Sara looked at her closely. "You _have_ talked to Grissom."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Save it," Sara said harshly. "He yells at me every chance he gets to find a hobby, and now he's got you trying to do the same thing." Her eyes narrowed. "I thought you really wanted us to have a nice, girls' breakfast, but I was wrong. You brought me here so that you could do Grissom's dirty work."

"Okay, stop," Catherine said in a tone that boded no arguments. "I'll admit that I talked to Grissom. I'll even admit that he's worried about you, and that he asked me to talk to you. And, yes, that's why I initially suggested this breakfast. But, Sara, if you want the truth, here it is: I'm having a good time. Until you brought it up, I had forgotten why I asked you to come here. So, if you want to storm out of here like an angry teenager, go ahead, but you won't be doing it for the right reasons."

Sara looked at her in silence for a moment. "I – I don't know what to say."

"Well, _that's_ a first," Catherine said sarcastically.

Feeling soundly chastised, Sara's face flushed slightly. "I'm sorry, Cath."

Catherine sighed. "Look, Sara, Grissom's right. You can't be 'on' 24/7. Yes, this is a demanding job that requires your all … but you have to be able to _give_ your all. If this is all there is for you, you are going to burn out, and you are going end up quitting long before you should. You have a lot of talent. You're great at your job. I just want to see you being great at it for a lot of years to come."

Sara nodded. "That's basically what Grissom said, just … better."

Catherine laughed. "Well, as he always says, I am the people person."

"I guess."

"Can you try to find a hobby?"

Sara sighed. "I suppose."

* * *

As it turned out, a "hobby" found Sara. She had no idea that agreeing to be a maid of honor would require as much work as it did. She found herself longing for the days when she had been able to open her email without finding links to pictures of bridal gowns, bridesmaids' dresses, flowers, invitations and centerpieces awaiting her. Mary sought her opinion on every aspect of the wedding, quickly making her glad that nearly 3,000 miles lay between them. She could only imagine how much worse this experience would have been if she and Mary still shared an apartment.

But, far worse than the bride herself were the bridesmaids. Mary emailed Sara a list of four girls, including their phone numbers and email addresses, stating that Sara would need to get in touch with them to plan the bridal shower.

"_Bridal shower_?" Sara exclaimed, staring at the message on her computer screen as though this must be some horrible joke. "She must be joking. How can I plan a bridal shower? I've never even been to one."

Sighing, she dutifully composed an email to her fellow bridesmaids. She hoped that they would have a better idea of where to start than she did.

She had an inbox full of replies that night. After reading the first one, Sara sighed again. She could practically see the ribbons and lace dripping from the messages. The cute fonts they all used made her want to hurt them, and the thinly veiled suggestions that maybe she wasn't up to the task of being Mary's maid of honor made her cringe. These girls were going to drive her mad.

Work became a welcome reprieve from the wedding insanity. The zeal with which she threw herself into her work made Grissom and Catherine nervous. Exchanging glances, they both knew that they were thinking the same thing: they had failed.

* * *

"What's wrong, Sara?" Catherine asked with concern as she walked into the break room at the beginning of their shift. Sara was sitting alone in a chair in the corner, looking utterly miserable.

Sara looked up at Catherine, realizing how much of her emotions had been playing across her face. "Do you know anything about bridal showers?"

Catherine looked surprised. "Why? Are you getting married?"

"Hardly," Sara laughed. "But, I am the maid of honor in my friend's wedding, and this shower thing appears to be my responsibility."

Catherine nodded. "The bridesmaids usually throw a shower."

"Yeah … but, the thing is, I don't really know what to do. And, as the other bridesmaids already see me as incompetent, I sort of want to email them a lengthy list of ideas. I just don't have any."

Catherine smiled. "Come and see me after shift. I'll help you out."

"You will? Thanks, Cath," Sara said with a beaming smile.

Nick and Warrick exchanged a look.

"It's times like this that I'm glad to be a guy," Warrick said.

"I'm with you, my man," Nick agreed.

"I'm jealous," Sara laughed.

"Okay, here we go," Grissom said as he rushed into the break room. "Catherine, Nick, you have an apparent hunting accident. Should be an easy night."

"Thanks," Catherine said, taking the assignment slip from Grissom. "I think."

He smiled. "Sara, you're coming with me to check out a body found at a highway construction site. Warrick, you'll join us once you've wrapped your current case."

"Right," Warrick and Sara said in unison.

"All right, that's everything. Sara, we leave in five minutes."

"Sure."

Five minutes later, Sara found herself in the passenger seat of the SUV Grissom was driving to the scene. She took a deep breath, hating what she had to request from him.

"I need to take a three day weekend next month."

Grissom's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. Sara rarely asked for a single day off, and never three in a row. "What's the occasion?"

She made a face. "Do you remember my friend Mary?"

"Of course. She's a very sweet girl."

"Yeah, well, you're not the only one who thinks so. She's getting married, and she's asked me to be her maid of honor."

"Well, congratulations."

"Yeah, thanks. Anyway, her shower is next month, and if I'm not there, I think one of these other psychotic bridesmaids will try to usurp my position."

Grissom laughed. "You know, I was in a wedding once. Best man. I was actually terrified of the bridesmaids. It's amazing what being in a wedding will do to otherwise sane, well-adjusted women."

"Yeah, so I'm learning."

He smiled. "I'll make sure you get the time off. Just put a written request on my desk."

"No problem."

* * *

Their light conversation on the way to the scene stood in stark contrast to the case that awaited them. Two sisters, Donna and Joan, had been killed and dumped at the construction site. As horrific as the crime was itself, it was the way of life chosen by Donna that truly disturbed Sara.

The young woman had completely cut herself off from society. She lived with her sister, but rarely left her house. Her car showed very little mileage, she worked from home, she ordered her clothes from catalogues, her fridge was full of take-out food and plastered with delivery menus.

Sara saw a lot of herself in this victim – far too much, really. At first, she wasn't disturbed by it. So, Donna liked to order food. So did Sara; she hated to cook, and assumed that Donna had felt the same way. Donna subscribed to catalogues; so did Sara. She had loved turning the pages to see the items for sale since childhood. Occasionally ordering things gave her something to anticipate. Receiving a package was a welcome change from going to work and returning to quiet house every day.

Then, she was given the task of going through Donna's computer. After searching through it, she realized how lonely this girl had been. Her catalogue purchases weren't casual and few and far between like Sara's; she was ordering at least once a day. Donna only had one friend on her buddy list; a man who Grissom discovered was a recently-released prison inmate. She had declared her undying love to him, telling him in an email how special he made her feel, how strong the connection between them was.

She was so cut off from human contact that her only friend was someone who was, quite literally, unable to be with her.

With this revelation, panic filled Sara. Donna could be her. Oh, she wasn't there yet, but she could be. Sara knew that she was within inches of living this girl's life – and she wanted out.

* * *

She raced home after work. She walked into her apartment slowly, staring at it as though she had never seen it before. Then, she shot into action.

The containers of leftover take-out were thrown unceremoniously into the trash. All her delivery menus followed. Her stack of catalogues found its way into another trashcan.

Feeling better already, she looked down at her answering machine. As usual, it flashed a red 0 at her.

In the past, she had never been bothered by her lack of messages. Now, after hearing Mary's subtle comments about being lonely, after listening to Nick's off-hand comment that she needed to get out more, after talking to Grissom and Catherine about hobbies and activities, after seeing the way that Donna had lived and died, she knew that she never wanted to see that red 0 again.

She grabbed her phone and punched in the number that Hank had left her ages ago. It rang twice before he picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi," she said with a brightness she barely felt. "It's Sara."

"Sara?" he said in surprise. "Wow, I didn't think I'd ever hear from you!"

She took a deep breath. "Yeah, sorry. I was thinking … do you want to go out … somewhere?"

"I'd love to," he said cheerfully, "but tonight isn't good. Can you do dinner next Tuesday?"

"I can," she smiled.

"Great," he said. "Can I pick you up at seven?"

"That would be great."

"Excellent," he said. "What's your address?"

As she gave him her address, a feeling of peace filled her. This was right. She was finally going to have a life – a real life that was more than school or work.

Mary, Grissom and Catherine would be so proud.


	11. Date, Interrupted

A/N: From what was supposed to be a few scenes to its own freakin' long chapter … I hope you enjoy this one!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. This chapter was inspired by episode 214, "The Finger."

* * *

_Date, Interrupted_

"Okay, Warrick, I'm out of here. I'll see you tomorrow."

Warrick raised his eyebrows. "Is your friend coming in from out of town again?"

Sara looked at him in confusion. "No. Why would you think that?"

"Because you're leaving on time," he said.

Sara shrugged. "Maybe I'm just excited to start my day off."

Warrick shook his head. "Oh, no, not you, girl. You never leave on time unless you have plans."

She gave him a smile. "Well, maybe I have plans."

"There's my girl!" Warrick laughed. "What are you up to?"

"Sleep first. But, I'm going out for dinner."

"No way! Where?"

"To this diner that Catherine took me to the other day."

"She's a good one to go to for restaurant picks," Warrick nodded. "I think she's tried out every restaurant in Vegas. I've lived in this town my entire life, and she's always telling me new places to go."

"Yeah, she's a wealth of information."

"So-o," Warrick drawled, "who are you going with?"

"That's terrible."

"What, I'm not allowed to know?"

Sara slammed her locker shut. "Until you can form a sentence using proper English grammar, no."

Warrick stared at her as though she had grown a second head. "What?"

Giving him a wide smile, she brushed past him. "And don't tell anyone where I'm going!" she called as she left.

"Do you know how unsafe it is not to let people know where you are?" Warrick yelled after her.

Laughing, Sara waved as she turned the corner to leave the building.

Warrick was still shaking his head when Grissom walked into the locker room.

"You okay, Warrick?"

"Sara just told me that I don't use proper English grammar."

Grissom frowned. "What did you say to her?"

"'Who are you going with?'"

"With whom are you going?" Grissom corrected.

Warrick rolled his eyes. "I hate her. She's worse than my grandmother – and that woman beats me up about my grammar all the time."

"Where is she going?" Grissom asked.

"Out for dinner. I just wanted to know –"

"Right, with whom," Grissom interrupted. "Very Catherine."

"She's going with Catherine?" Warrick asked with a frown.

"No … well, she might be. But, I meant that Catherine would ask something like that." He slammed his own locker. "Don't make it your business to know everyone else's business, Warrick."

"I thought our job was to know everyone's business!" Warrick called as Grissom left the locker room.

Grissom just shook his head, chuckling to himself as he walked away. He couldn't help feeling relieved by the news that Sara was going out for dinner. She was making friends and finding activities to do outside of work. Apparently, he and Catherine had managed to get through to her.

"Hey," Nick said as he entered the locker room. "Why is Grissom laughing?"

"Oh, he was just in here telling me that I'm being nosy," Warrick replied.

"Why?" Nick smiled.

Warrick sighed. "Sara just told me that she's going out for dinner, but she won't tell me _with_ _whom_."

Nick gave him a look. "What's with the grammar, Shakespeare?"

"See, this is what I'm screaming," Warrick laughed.

"Where's Sara going for dinner?"

"Some diner that Catherine recommended."

Nick nodded. "If Catherine recommended it, it's gotta be good."

"What about me?" Catherine asked as she entered the room.

"Sara's going out for dinner tonight," Nick said. "She told Warrick that she's going to some diner that you recommended."

"Must be that one I took her to the other day," Catherine nodded. "I'm glad she liked it." She paused. "Who's she going with?"

"Don't know," Nick and Warrick said together.

Catherine's eyes took on a shine. "Good girl," she murmured.

"We could go spy on her," Nick suggested with a laugh.

"Oh, no," Catherine said. "You are not Sara's big brothers, and it is not your job to keep an eye on her. She's a big girl, and she can take care of herself. If she doesn't want to share, that's her business, not yours."

"Grissom just said that you'd go looking for the gossip," Warrick said.

Catherine shook her head. "Not this time. You two have got to stop believing every word that Grissom says!"

"Fine, we'll leave Sara alone," Nick sighed.

"Hey, if you guys could do me a favor …" Warrick began.

"What?" Nick asked.

"Don't tell Sara that I told you what's she's doing. She sorta told me to keep it quiet."

"Ugh!" Catherine exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "What am I going to do with you two?"

She stalked out of the locker room, leaving Nick and Warrick laughing behind her.

* * *

Not for the first time, Sara had a hard time sleeping. Once she could finally justify getting out of bed, she made her way into the bathroom for a shower. She had a feeling that getting ready for her date was going to take quite a bit of time.

After a long, hot, somewhat-calming shower, Sara began to go through her clothes. She had to choose carefully. She smiled, thinking of her college days, when she and Mary would go through both of their wardrobes to put together a first-date outfit. As she picked through the hangers in her closet, she wished she still had Mary's wardrobe to supplement her own. Mary always had more pretty skirts than she did.

Sara finally settled on a red collared shirt that plunged into what was for her wardrobe a fairly deep v-neck and a pair of black pants. She took her time with her hair, flipping the ends up. She was just finishing her lipstick when a knock sounded on her door. She gasped and dropped her lipstick. Shaking her head, she picked up the tube and tossed it into her purse. She rushed across her apartment to open the door.

Hank stood on her doorstep, smiling nervously at her.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," she said with a nervous smile of her own. "Just let me grab my coat, and I'll be ready to go."

"Great," he smiled.

Sara tossed her jacket on and they were off.

* * *

"Have you been here before?" Hank asked after they had placed their orders at the diner.

"Once," Sara replied. "Catherine, one of my coworkers, brought me here."

"It's nice," he smiled.

"They have a good vegetarian selection," she said, remembering the hook Catherine had used to win her over.

"Are you a vegetarian?" Hank asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes."

He nodded. "Good for you. I couldn't do it. I'm too much of a 'meat and potatoes' kind of guy."

She laughed. "That's what everyone thinks until they try it. It's not as hard as you'd think."

"What made you decide to go meatless?'

Sara smiled. "Too many experiments on pigs."

Hank held up his hands and laughed. "Enough said."

Their food arrived, and they continued their conversation as they ate. Sara learned that Hank had lived in Las Vegas his entire life, and that he had two older brothers. He spoke of them in a way that suggested that he had spent a lifetime trying to keep up with them, but hadn't quite succeeded. He, like Sara, had been something of a science geek in high school.

"My family always thought that I'd be a doctor," he smiled. "I think that, to them, saving lives in the field is a little less prestigious than saving lives in a hospital. They're dealing, though."

Sara smiled. "They should be proud of you. Not many people could do what you do."

"I'd say even less could do what you do," Hank grinned as their desserts were placed in front of them. He gave a theatrical shiver. "All those dead bodies …"

"Yeah, well, someone's gotta do it."

He smiled. "I can't believe that I finally got you out of work."

Sara smiled back. "This is nice," she said.

Hank kept talking, but Sara found herself hard-pressed to keep up. She had just noticed Catherine getting out of the driver's seat of a very expensive sports car, in the company of a man she had never seen before. To Sara's surprise, they walked into the diner. Catherine passed Sara without even looking at her.

"Isn't that one of your coworkers?" Hank asked.

"Yeah," Sara said slowly. She shrugged. "Not very social tonight, is she?"

"That's okay," Hank smiled. "Call me selfish, but I'd rather keep you to myself."

Sara smiled, feeling a slight blush color her cheeks. "I'd like that, too."

Seeing her slight embarrassment, Hank smiled and looked down at his pie. He looked up again to see Sara absorbed in her own dessert. "So, I was thinking … do you want to go see a movie when we're done with dessert?"

"Sure," Sara said with a bright smile.

"There's a cinema right around the corner – one of my favorites." He grinned. "When I was in high school, my best friend worked there. I didn't pay to see a movie for years."

Sara laughed. "Does he still work there?"

"No. But, I think I can afford to pay tonight." He paused. "Is there any particular movie you wanted to see?"

Sara thought for a minute, but drew a blank. "Nothing special. Why don't we see what's starting when we get there?"

"Good plan. I can't think of any –"

Hank's sentence was cut off by Catherine. Again, she passed their table, this time on her way out. Without saying a word or even looking at Sara, she put a glass down on the table in front of her. Sara and Hank both looked at it in shock, staring at the contents.

"Is that a finger?" Hank asked in horror.

Sara looked away from the finger surrounded by ice in the glass to meet Hank's eyes. "Would you excuse me for a minute?"

"Sure," he said.

Sara jumped up from the table and followed Catherine out of the diner. By the time she reached the sidewalk, she could see her coworker driving away. She looked back down at the glass that was clutched in her hand.

"What the hell, Catherine?" she muttered.

She walked slowly back inside. Hank was sitting at their table, waiting for her. Hating what she had to do, she slid back into the booth. He took some of the pressure off her with his immediate question.

"You need to go to work, don't you?"

She sighed. "Yeah. I'm so sorry, Hank, but this finger …"

"Yeah, I know," he sighed. "Evidence."

"Evidence of something," she said. "I really, really am sorry."

"It's okay," he said, giving her a falsely bright smile. "There's always next time, right?"

"Right," she said with an enthusiasm she didn't feel.

"Do you want me to take you home or to the lab?"

"To the lab," she said. "I don't want this to melt before I can get it to the morgue."

Hank made a face. "Right." He paused. "Will you be able to get home?"

"Someone will take me," she said.

"All right," he said, throwing down the money to cover their bill. "Let's go."

* * *

Sara arrived at the lab to discover a very stressed-out Grissom, Nick and Warrick. They filled her in on what she had missed: a suspect had been brought into police custody with bloody hands and a briefcase full of a million dollars. Grissom and Catherine had processed him until his lawyer had shown up, screaming about violation of rights. The man had been released. Catherine had followed him into the parking lot to return his sunglasses on her own way out. Grissom had seen Catherine drive off with the suspect, leaving her purse, keys, phone, gun, and evidence kit behind. They were completely at a loss at to what had happened. The iced finger that Sara brought in and her less-than-verbal contact with Catherine only served to make them more confused.

"She really did seem okay," Sara said for what felt like the hundredth time.

They were seated in the conference room, trying to piece together the very small amount of evidence they had. Grissom rubbed his hands over his eyes.

"Catherine was supposed to go to Lindsey's school play tonight. If she's been doing the bidding of this kidnapper, she couldn't go."

"Right," Nick said slowly, a lingering question in his voice.

"One of us has to go get Lindsey."

"What?" Sara asked. "Isn't Eddie going to the play?"

"Don't go there," Warrick said. "After the way that he's been filing complaints about her parenting skills, he'd have Linds for sure if Catherine missed her play."

"Right," Grissom said. "So, who wants to volunteer to pick up Lindsey?"

Everyone turned to look at Sara. Her eyes widened.

"Oh, no," she said. "We are not doing this again. I should not be in charge of the kid just because I have a uterus!"

"Oh, come on," Nick cajoled. "You had a great time with that little Collins girl."

"Yes, Nick, because taking care of a child who's been sexually abused by her father and just seen her entire family stabbed to death is so great," Sara said sarcastically.

"Look, Sara, someone needs to get her. Do it for Catherine," Grissom said. He looked at the other two. "Take Warrick along for the ride."

"All right, then," Warrick said. "Let's go, Sara."

Sara made a face, then followed him out of Grissom's office.

"She's a good kid, Sara," Warrick said as they walked out into the parking lot.

"I know," Sara replied. "It's more the attitude that I'm the automatic babysitter just because I'm a woman that bothers me."

Warrick grinned. "Believe me, girl, we are all more than aware of the fact that you can hang in with the guys. You don't need to prove it."

Somewhat mollified, Sara smiled. "Do you know where Lindsey's school is?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Good. Then you can drive."

Warrick smiled. "If we hurry, we'll be able to see the end of the play."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Is that supposed to be some kind of treat?" she asked in disbelief.

Warrick only laughed.

* * *

Warrick was right; they made to the school in time to see the end of the play. In spite of her reservations about seeing an elementary school nursery rhyme play, Sara couldn't help but smile at Lindsey's glowing face. She made a lovely girl in the moon.

The play ended to thunderous applause; Sara and Warrick joined in enthusiastically. The students disappeared off the stage as the curtain closed.

"Where did she go?" Sara asked.

"Backstage," Warrick grinned. "Weren't you ever in a play when you were a little girl?"

Sara shook her head. "I was always too shy. Even in kindergarten, my teachers could never get me to say my lines. I was always the girl who made sets."

Warrick grinned. "Well, their teacher will get them cleaned up and dressed in their street clothes. Then, she'll send them out to us."

"Where do we have to go to find her?"

He shrugged. "Let's just follow the parents."

Sara nodded her agreement; they followed the parents into the school cafeteria. Several long tables were laden with snacks and drinks. Parents stood behind them, passing out cookies and punch.

"Would you like a cookie?" a smiling woman asked Sara.

"Oh, no thank you," she smiled.

The woman's smile faltered a bit. "Who is your child? I don't remember seeing you at any of our functions before."

"We're here for our niece," Warrick said, rescuing Sara. "Lindsey Willows."

Sara looked at him in surprise, but quickly recovered. "Wasn't she great as the girl in the moon?"

The cookie woman's smile returned. "Oh, yes, Lindsey is just charming." She looked at Sara again. "Are you related to her mother or father?"

"Mother," Sara said quickly. "I'm her younger sister."

"How lovely. And this is your … husband?"

"Yes," Sara smiled.

Warrick, who was taller and could easily see over Sara's head, suddenly grabbed her hand. "Come on, sugar, I see Lindsey coming now."

"It was nice to meet you," Sara said kindly.

"And you," the cookie woman replied.

Warrick held Sara's hand tightly as he led her across the cafeteria. "Nosy, wasn't she?"

"Sounds like someone else I know," Sara said wryly. She paused to give him a look. "Honestly, Warrick – _sugar_?"

"Sorry," he laughed. "It was the first term of endearment I could think of."

Sara shook her head.

"Uncle Warrick!"

Warrick grinned and dropped Sara's hand to catch Lindsey in his arms, lifting her off the ground. "Hey, peanut," he smiled, hugging her tightly.

"Did you see me? My whole face was glowing in the dark! I can't believe you're here! Mommy didn't tell me you were coming!"

"Well, we wanted to surprise you," Warrick smiled.

Lindsey looked over Warrick's shoulder to see Sara standing next to him. "Hi, Sara," she said in a little voice.

"Hi, Linds," Sara smiled. She and Lindsey had never spent much quality time together; in that moment, she vowed to rectify that mistake. Much as she had never really liked children, she wondered what it would be like to feel this little girl jump into her arms.

Lindsey continued to look around. "Where's Mommy?"

"Um … Mommy's busy with some stuff at work. She had to leave," Warrick said. "But, she wanted us to take you to the lab. Would you like that?"

"Sure," Lindsey smiled.

"Great. Are you ready?"

"Yup."

Warrick set Lindsey back on the ground and took her hand. "Let's go, then."

Sara smiled down at her, and reached out for her other hand. The last thing they needed to do was to lose Catherine's little girl. Lindsey considered her for a moment, then took her hand.

"Did you bring the big car?"

"We did," Sara affirmed.

"With the lights and the siren?"

"Yeah," Warrick chuckled.

"Can we play it on the way there?"

Warrick laughed. "We'll see."

They took Lindsey out to the car, and made sure that she was securely buckled in. Sara couldn't help but feel a bit nervous about how easily they had managed to take someone else's child out of the school.

"They didn't ask to see our ID or anything," she said to Warrick in disbelief. "We could have walked off with any kid in that building, and no one would have known!"

"School security," he sighed, shaking his head. "They just assume that nothing can go wrong with all those parents there."

"If I were Catherine, I'd have some choice words for them."

"Hey, we're taking her kid for the best of reasons."

"I know," Sara sighed. "But, still …"

Warrick shook his head and climbed into the driver's seat. "Come on. Let's go."

Sara climbed in behind him, and turned to look at Lindsey. "Are you hungry, sweetie?"

"Yeah," Lindsey said.

Thinking back to what Catherine had said during their breakfast, Sara smiled. "How about we stop at McDonald's to get something to eat?"

"Yeah!" Lindsey exclaimed. "Can we? I want a Happy Meal with chicken nuggets!"

Warrick looked at Sara in disbelief. "Miss Vegetarian wants McDonald's?"

"Miss Vegetarian wants Lindsey to have a Happy Meal," Sara grinned. "I'll get a salad."

Warrick nodded. "We'd better get stuff for everyone. There will be hell to pay if the three of us walk into that lab with less than about ten hamburgers."

Sara laughed. "Well, then, driver, take us to McDonald's."

* * *

When they arrived back at the lab, Sara took Lindsey into the break room to set out the feast they had brought, while Warrick went to find their coworkers. Lindsey loved the task of organizing the food on the room's longest table.

"We should put all the sandwiches together right here at the end of the table," she said. "Like a buffet line in the hotels."

"That makes sense," Sara smiled. "Where should we put the fries?"

"Over here," Lindsey said, indicating an open space beside the sandwiches.

"That looks great," Sara smiled.

Lindsey grinned. "And we'll put the desserts at the other end."

"Makes sense," Sara said, sliding the boxed apples pies they had brought to the opposite end of the table. "Should we stack them up?"

"Yeah!" Lindsey agreed. "Like a pyramid."

"I think we can handle that."

They had just finished their pyramid when Nick and Greg appeared in the doorway.

"Well, look at that," Greg grinned. "Sara cooked."

Greg's words alerted Lindsey and Sara to their presence in the room. Lindsey's eyes lit up when she saw them.

"Uncle Nick! Greg!"

Laughing, Nick and Greg each took a turn to hug Lindsey. Nick looked at Sara over Lindsey's shoulder.

"You did good, Sara."

Sara shrugged. "All in a day's work, right?"

"Come and see the buffet," Lindsey said, taking Nick's hand to lead him across the room. "Sara and I set it up. We even made a pyramid of the desserts!"

"Apple pie," Greg said cheerfully. "I love those."

"You can have the top one," Lindsey directed.

Grinning, Greg took the pie at the top of the pyramid. "Thanks, girls."

"Here, Linds, why don't you grab your Happy Meal, and you can sit down and eat with Greg and Nick," Sara said.

"You'll eat with us, too, won't you, Sara?"

Sara smiled. "Of course."

The four of them had just settled themselves at a table when Grissom walked in. He watched them silently for a moment. For someone who claimed she wasn't good with children, Sara seemed to be doing a very good job with Lindsey. He watched as Sara put together the toy that came with Lindsey's meal, playing with it to make the little girl laugh. Smiling at the scene, he cleared his throat.

Lindsey looked at the sound. Pure delight crossed her face at the sight of him.

"Uncle Gil!" she exclaimed, launching herself out of her chair.

Sara stared in amazement as Grissom caught her in his arms, holding her tightly for a moment.

"Hi, sweetheart," he smiled, releasing her. "I hear you did a great job in your play tonight."

Lindsey grinned. "My whole face was glowing, Uncle Gil. You should have seen it!"

He smiled. "I wish I could have. Maybe we can make it glow another time so that I can see."

"We will," she promised. "Can we go see your butterflies?"

"In a little bit," he said. "First, let's have dinner. I heard that Sara and Warrick took you to McDonald's."

"Yeah," she grinned. "I got a Happy Meal, and Sara helped me put my toy together. Do you want to see it?"

"I'd love to see it."

Lindsey grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the table where Sara, Nick and Greg were still eating. Sara couldn't believe how much she enjoyed watching Grissom play with Catherine's little girl. She had nearly forgotten the comment that he had made during her first few days of work: that Lindsey was like a niece to him. Sara smiled as she watched them together, thinking that this man would make a wonderful father.

* * *

After their fast food dinner, everyone had to get back to work. While Nick went to process the apartment secretly owned by their suspect, and Sara, Grissom and Warrick took off to follow a lead on Catherine's whereabouts, Lindsey was sent to the lab to help Greg. Grissom felt a bit apprehensive about letting a child play in their DNA lab, but Greg assured him that he had it under control.

"I'll just let her look at things under the microscope," he said. "She'll love it, and she'll feel like she's helping. I'll make her wear gloves and goggles, and we'll put her hair in a ponytail." He smiled. "Don't worry, Grissom. I've got it under control."

Grissom nodded and left Lindsey in Greg's apparently-capable hands.

* * *

Catherine wasn't back in the lab until the next morning. It took the entire day to piece together what had happened. The suspect who had taken Catherine had killed his mistress. In an effort to cover up his crime, he asked his lawyer to help in faking her kidnapping. Catherine just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time; any law enforcement officer would have done to make the kidnapping look real.

"Are you all right?" Grissom asked her as they prepared to go home. Nick, Greg and Warrick were already gone, and Sara was floating around the lab, presumably getting ready to leave.

Catherine nodded. "It's been a strange twenty-four hours," she acknowledged. "I'm really excited to just go home."

"Take a couple days off," Grissom said. "Spend some time with Lindsey."

Catherine smiled. "All I've heard about is how much fun she had here."

"Hey, guys," Sara said as she walked into the locker room.

"Hey, Sara, you have a new fan," Catherine grinned.

Sara looked at her in confusion. "What?"

"Lindsey just loves you," she smiled. "She couldn't stop talking about the buffet you two created."

"Oh," Sara smiled. "She's a sweet kid, Catherine."

"Yeah, I think so." Catherine slammed her locker shut. "All right, guys, I'm out of here. Gil, I'm taking those two days. I'll see you Thursday."

"Enjoy, Cath," he smiled.

"Bye, Catherine."

Catherine left the locker room, and Sara looked at Grissom nervously.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"Of course," he replied.

"Could you drive me home? I don't have my car here."

If Grissom was surprised by her request, he didn't show it. "I'd love to."

* * *

"So, did you enjoy your time with Lindsey?" Grissom asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

Sara smiled a bit sheepishly. "I'm sorry I was so mean about going to get her. Like I told Warrick, it's just …"

"Just what?"

She sighed. "It's not important. I guess I just haven't had much experience with kids."

"You were really great with her," Grissom replied.

"So were you," Sara said. "I can't believe how much she adores you!"

Grissom smiled slyly. "People _do_ like me, you know. Even children."

"That's not what I meant," Sara smiled.

"I know," Grissom said, dropping his teasing manner. "Lindsey is … special to all of us. She's had a rough life, with her parents' divorce, and I just … I sort of want to make it better for her. I know what it's like to grow up without a parent."

Sara raised her eyebrows, rather hoping he would continue. When he didn't, she elected to drop the subject. She didn't want to be quizzed about her past; she decided to pay him the same respect.

"You did a good job on the case," he said, changing the topic of conversation.

"Thanks," she said. "It was really Nick who cracked it for us."

"Don't sell yourself short, Sara," he said seriously. "You're a great CSI."

She flushed. "Thanks."

They arrived at Sara's apartment building. Grissom pulled into an empty space and turned off the car. Sara looked at him questioningly.

"I'll walk you to the door," he said in answer to the silent question in her eyes.

"You don't have to do that," she said automatically.

"Humor me," he said with a smile.

Sara nodded and climbed out of the car. Grissom fell into step beside her as they walked up the stairs to the third story. Sara pulled out her keys and unlocked her door.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked out of polite habit.

"No, thank you," he smiled. "Good night, Sara. I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"Good night," she replied.

With one last smile, he disappeared into the darkness.

Sara walked slowly into her apartment and closed and locked the door. Sighing, she crossed to look down at her answering machine. The red 0 taunted her once again. Sighing again, she picked up the phone and dialed Mary's number. She picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"I screwed up," Sara said.

"Sara?" Mary asked. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"I really messed up my date," Sara said.

"Oh, sweetie," Mary sighed. "What happened?"

The entire story spilled out in several long sentences. Sara told her about the diner and how well things were going until Catherine appeared, dropping a severed finger onto their table.

"So, I had to leave," Sara concluded. "I had to get to work to take care of this finger."

"What did he say?"

"He was very understanding. He drove me to the lab, but, Mary, how much can – Hang on, I've got another call."

"All right."

Sara pressed the flash button. "Hello?"

"Sara?"

"Yes?"

"Hi, it's Hank."

Sara nearly dropped the phone. "Hi," she said in surprise. "How are you?"

"Fine," he said. "Are you all right?"

"Of course," she replied.

"Everything worked out with your finger?"

Sara forced a laugh. "Yeah, we got everything straightened out. We found the rest of the body and put all the evidence together."

"Good," Hank said. "So, things are slowing down, then?"

"For now," Sara said. "Until the next crime, at least."

"Right," Hank laughed. He paused. "So … I believe you owe me a movie."

"I'm sorry?" Sara asked, hardly daring to hope that she had not misunderstood him.

"Well, until Catherine gave you that finger, we had agreed to see a movie. Now that the finger has been reunited with its body, I think we should finish our evening."

"Right now?" Sara asked, wondering how much longer she could exist on no sleep.

"No, it doesn't have to be now," Hank said with a chuckle. "Do you work tomorrow night?"

"Yeah."

"Me, too. Do you want to go tomorrow afternoon? We could catch a matinee."

"That would be great," Sara said, a true grin breaking out across her face.

"Great," Hank said. "How about I pick you up at two, and we'll go from there."

"That sounds great," Sara said.

"Excellent. I'll see you at two tomorrow."

"See you then."

"Bye, Sara."

"Bye."

Sara clicked the button to hang up, and was shocked when the phone immediately rang in her hand. She pressed the talk button again.

"Hello?"

"Did you forget about me?"

"Oh, God, Mary, I'm sorry."

Mary laughed. "It's all right. Who was it?"

Sara grinned. "Hank."

"Ha," Mary said. "You didn't scare him off."

"I guess not. We're going to the movies tomorrow."

Mary squealed. "Should I put his name on your invitation to my wedding?"

"Not yet," Sara grinned. "Not yet."


	12. Confusion

A/N: For some reason, I had a hard time getting going on this one, but by the end, I had so much fun with it. I hope you like this chapter!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and the occasional dialogue come from episodes 215, "Burden of Proof" and 216, "Primum Non Nocere," home of one of my favorite GSR scenes of all time … you know the one!

* * *

_Confusion_

"I had a really nice time tonight."

Sara smiled, tightening her fingers around Hank's. "Me, too."

They reached her apartment door and looked at each other almost nervously. Sara smiled.

"I'm glad we got to finish our first date."

Hank grinned. "Yeah, it was sort of 'to be continued,' wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

He touched her cheek. "Let's not make that mistake again," he whispered.

Before Sara could say a thing, he leaned down and touched his lips to hers. Sara shivered slightly, then kissed him back, reaching out to grab his shirt, twisting it in her hands. Hank's hands slid down her arms to her waist, pulling her closer.

Her pager began to vibrate. Clipped to her belt, they were close enough together that they both felt it.

As suddenly as the moment began, it ended. Hank pulled back. Sara, her face bright red, picked up the pager.

"I have to go to work," she said, reading the small display. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Hank smiled. "We've ended on a good note."

"Definitely," Sara grinned.

"Okay, well, we'll have to do this again, yeah?"

"I'd love to."

"Great." Hank paused for a beat, then leaned in to press his lips against hers again in a chaste peck. "Have fun at work."

"I always do."

Laughing, Hank turned to leave, and Sara unlocked the door of her apartment. Once inside, she looked at the pager again, shaking her head.

"Your timing sucks, Grissom," she sighed. "It really, truly, sucks."

* * *

"So, what brings you to work?" Catherine asked as she and Sara walked down the hall to the break room together. "I thought you had the night off."

"So did I," Sara replied. "Grissom paged me."

"Well, we've got a weird case," Catherine said. "Grissom and I had to go out to the body farm to look at a corpse."

Sara raised her eyebrows.

"A corpse that didn't belong," Catherine clarified.

"How did it end up there?"

"We're still working on that one. He appears to have been shot, but we didn't get to really look him over at the scene; Grissom had David get him out of there immediately. He was picking up bugs from the other bodies."

"What was the body farm like?" Sara asked eagerly.

"Creepy, if you want the truth," Catherine replied with a slight shudder.

They continued their conversation about the body farm as they walked into the break room, where Nick was ranting about Grissom leaving his experiments in the community fridge. The two women and Warrick agreed with Nick that it was disgusting – no one wanted a jar of expired blood next to his or her lunch – but they didn't think they could do anything to change it. The rather socially-inept Grissom would never see the problem with leaving experiments out in the open.

* * *

After the first half of her shift, Sara began to wonder why Grissom had paged her to come in on her day off. Thrilling though the case was, she wasn't exactly doing much to help it along. Catherine had taken over the victim's family – in this case, a fiancée and her two children. The victim's house had been set on fire, but Nick and Warrick, along with Grissom, were handling that. They found photo evidence that the victim may have been sexually abusing his fiancée's daughter; again, Catherine handled that.

Sara's anger continued to mount throughout the day. All she wanted to do was to help, to do her job, but no one seemed to need her. Catherine had the family well under control; the one time that she did need help in searching the house, she took Nick. Warrick was holed up in the AV lab with the pictures recovered from the victim's house; he always liked to be alone while processing photos. Grissom was busy with an experiment involving raw meat, trying to see how exactly insects generally found on bovine flesh had made their way into the victim's wound tract. Sara really hated the thought of helping with that experiment, and, given the way Grissom had been ignoring her all day, she doubted he wanted her help.

Her anger gradually gave way to a feeling of neglect and disrespect. If none of her colleagues trusted her to help with this case, did any of them have any respect for her work or for her at all?

There was only one thing to do. She had to talk to Grissom.

* * *

Catherine found Sara in the locker room, banging her fists against her locker.

"Hey, what did that locker ever do to you?" she asked.

Sara turned to look at her, her eyes glittering with anger. "What the hell is Grissom's problem?"

"What do you mean?" Catherine asked slowly.

"He brings me in on my day off, then won't let me work the case! I haven't done a single thing to help with this investigation. When I pointed this out to him, do you know what he asked me to do?"

Catherine shook her head.

"To clean up his ground meat experiment!"

"Oo," Catherine said, sitting down on the bench.

"Why would he do that? Everyone knows that I'm a vegetarian!"

"Did he know?" Catherine asked.

"How could he not know?" Sara cried. "We all eat together all the time. We go out for dinner, for breakfast, for lunch … everyone knows, Cath! Everyone! How could he ask me to do that?"

"Did you tell him?"

"Of course! And do you know what he said?"

"No," Catherine said slowly.

"He told me to get Nick to do it, like that would make it all better!"

Catherine sighed. "Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No," Sara said stubbornly. "I'll take care of it."

Catherine looked at her nervously. "Sara … don't do anything stupid."

Sara laughed hollowly. "I'm not going to take a gun to him, Catherine."

"No, I know that," Catherine replied. "Just … I don't want your temper to make your decision on this one. Give yourself some time to calm down."

Sara remained silent, feeling mutinous.

"Look, I have to go the hospital with the little Bradley girl. Just … please, don't do anything until I get back. We'll talk more, okay?"

"I'm fine, Catherine."

"Right," Catherine said incredulously. She walked toward the door. "We'll talk later."

"Right," Sara echoed. "See you, Catherine."

"Bye."

Sara waited until she was sure that Catherine was gone, then left the locker room. She walked straight to the department office, and picked up a form to request a leave of absence. She couldn't stay here and work with him. Not if he didn't respect her.

* * *

When Catherine reentered the locker room much later, she found Sara sitting alone, staring into her open locker. She approached her a bit hesitantly.

"I didn't mean that you literally had to sit here and wait for me," she said in a light attempt at humor.

Sara looked at her with red-rimmed, somewhat deadened eyes. "I didn't."

Catherine slowly sat down next to her. "What happened, Sara?"

"I can't work with someone who doesn't respect me," she said. "I told him that."

"You told … Grissom?"

"Yes. I asked for a leave of absence so I could explore other professional avenues."

Catherine exhaled. "Sara, I told you not to do anything until I could talk to him …"

"It doesn't matter," she said hollowly. "He refused to let me go. He said that 'the lab' needs me."

"We do need you," Catherine said at once. "We all do."

Sara shook her head. "That's not what he said. Not that you need me. God forbid he say that _he_ needs me. It was just 'Sara … the lab needs you.'"

"Sara, Grissom … he's not very good with anything that smacks of the emotional. He's just not good with people. He doesn't know how to react in situations like this –"

"He knows how to show respect," Sara said, cutting her off. She paused. "I told me that if he didn't sign my leave, I'd quit."

Catherine's eyes widened. "Don't do that."

Sara laughed mirthlessly. "Ever since he refused, I've been sitting here, staring at my locker, thinking of all the reasons that I should go. But …" She sighed. "I can't stop thinking of all the reasons I should stay."

Catherine did something completely unexpected; she grabbed Sara's hand and squeezed it tightly. "You hold on to the reasons you should stay."

Sara looked at her in surprise.

Catherine gave her a slight smile. "You know, when you first started here, I didn't want you working with us. I had never worked with another woman. I was used to this being an old boys' club, and I knew how to play that game. But with you … my games wouldn't work. I was threatened by you." She sighed. "But, now, Sara, I can't imagine working without you. You're a great CSI, and you've become a friend to all of us. I don't think that any of us would be happy to see you gone." She smiled. "Besides, think of all the fantasies you'd cheat Sanders out of if you weren't here."

Sara laughed in spite of herself.

"Just … give it a week, okay? If you still want to leave at the end of the week, then go. But, if you doubt it at all, don't do it. You'd just be leaving out of anger and spite, and that's no way to start a new life."

Sara sighed. "Okay," she said at last. "A week."

Catherine smiled. "That's all I'm asking."

* * *

"Grissom!"

Grissom stopped in his tracks and turned to see Catherine coming down the hall toward him. "Good job with the little girl."

"You, too," she said.

He shook his head. "I can't believe her father …"

"I know," Catherine said, her disgust evident on her face. "Eddie may be a lot of things, but I know he'd never even think for a minute about doing anything like that to Lindsey."

"Thank God," Grissom said quietly.

"Hey, what are you doing after shift?"

"Going home, I suppose."

Catherine smiled. "Want some company? Lindsey is with Eddie tonight, and I really don't want to go home to an empty house after a shift like this one."

Grissom sighed. "Neither do I."

"Good. I'll bring the vodka. You're cooking."

* * *

Catherine appeared at Grissom's townhouse carrying two bags. He took them from her, and led her to the kitchen.

"I thought you were just bringing vodka," he said.

"Yeah, I was," she said. "But, I was afraid you wouldn't have orange juice."

"I do."

"Oh, well. Save it for breakfast. We'll use mine for the screwdrivers."

He smiled. "Are you playing bartender?"

"Sure."

Catherine poured them drinks while Grissom began chopping vegetables for a salad. He had rest of their dinner – a homemade pizza – already in the oven.

"Tough case, huh?" he asked.

Catherine blew him off, not wanting to talk about the case. She redirected the conversation at her next opportunity.

"I heard about you and Sara."

"Sara … you know," he said with an attempt at a chuckle. "She gets very emotional."

Catherine stared at him in disbelief. "Are you in denial?"

He raised his eyes from the knife he was slicing through a tomato to look at her.

"No, that's … no, no, way too analytical." She shook her head.

As much as she and Grissom had discussed her personal life, his had always remained rather off-limits. Although she had always been curious about it, Catherine was generally willing to let him have his space. But, this time, she wanted to help.

She began babbling about being burned by love. Grissom asked her to drop it, and she swiftly changed topics, reminding him that he was he shift supervisor, and that, whether he liked it or not, his team was forming a family around him.

"Look," she concluded, "we don't have to go to the Grand Tetons together, just … every now and then you've gotta lift your head up out of that microscope."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed.

Catherine smiled. Knowing that she had said enough – and that if she said anything more, she'd lose him completely on this – she walked away from the kitchen, into the living room. She looked out the window, completely ignoring him as he thumbed through a telephone directory. It wasn't until he actually called the florist that she felt free to turn around, collapsing onto his couch as she listened to him order Sara a living plant because "she likes vegetation."

When Grissom turned to look at her, Catherine was grinning. He smiled.

"Will that make it better?"

"It's a good start."

* * *

"Miss Sidle, I have a delivery for you."

Sara looked at Judy in surprise. "A delivery? I wasn't expecting anything."

Judy grinned as she passed the flowering potted plant to Sara. "It would appear that you have an admirer."

Sara's eyes widened even further as she looked at the gerber daisy. "I didn't think he'd ever do anything like this."

Judy's smile widened. "You have a boyfriend?"

"No … not exactly … I guess we haven't really defined it …"

"I'd say he's pretty clear," Judy giggled.

Sara shook her head, picking the plant up off Judy's desk. "Thanks, Judy."

"You're welcome."

Sara carried her plant to the locker room, where she put it down on the bench and plucked off the card, noticing that three of the colorful flowers were blooming – one yellow, one pink and one red. She was surprised that Hank would send her a plant. It was so odd … he seemed more of a "roses" kind of guy.

She took the card out of the envelope bearing her name and sat down next to the plant. There it was, typed in neat, twelve point font: FROM GRISSOM.

She could have been knocked over with a feather. Grissom had sent her a plant. A flowering plant. A gerber daisy.

"Hey, is that from your boyfriend, Hank the EMT?"

Sara felt like she truly had fallen over. She turned to see Greg standing over her, and shoved the card back into the envelope.

"No, it's … How do you know about Hank?"

Greg grinned. "I hear things."

"Greg Sanders, I swear to God …"

"I have a friend who's an EMT," he said. "He told me that Hank had said something about going out to the movies with you." He frowned slightly, as though unsure he should share this next bit of information. "He also said that he didn't know that Hank had broken up with his previous girlfriend."

"Yeah, well, I guess not everyone wants the entire world to know their business," Sara said harshly. "Greg, please don't tell anyone about this."

"Why not?" Greg asked in confusion.

"I just … I don't think that my personal life is everyone else's business."

"Fair enough," Greg said. "My lips are sealed."

"Thanks."

"Sara, I need your help with a dead hockey player," Grissom said, walking into the locker room. His eyes lit up as they fell on the plant next to her. "Oh! You got the plant I sent! Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's beautiful," Sara said, her cheeks turning pink. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I thought you'd like it. Anyway, I'm going to leave in about ten minutes for the rink if you'd like to ride with me."

"Yeah, that would be great," Sara replied, amazed by the control she was able to display. "I'll meet you in the parking lot?"

"Great."

Grissom left, and Greg turned to Sara with wide eyes and an open mouth.

"If anyone finds out about this, I won't think twice about killing you," she said menacingly, rising out of her seat. "And, I'm a CSI – I know how to make it look like an accident, and where to hide your body so that no one will ever find you."

Greg cleared his throat. "No need for the empty threats. Your secrets are safe with me." He lowered his voice. "You aren't cheating on Hank with Grissom, are you?"

Sara laughed. "Look, Griss and I had a fight about a case the other day. I guess this is his way of making up for it."

Greg shrugged. "Well, you can't blame me for looking for back story."

"I thought Nick told you to stick to the real back story, as opposed to the one you've made up in your head."

Greg grinned. "I know. But, the one I've made up is so much more interesting."

Laughing, Sara left the locker room to find Grissom.

* * *

Sara couldn't help but feel excited as she followed Grissom to a seat in the bleachers at the hockey rink. She had always loved hockey. Her father, a native of Pittsburgh, had always been a huge Penguins fan. Her favorite memories of her father were of sitting on the couch with him, watching the Penguins play. Her last memory of her father was of watching the first game that Mario Lemieux played, when he scored with his first shot of his first shift. Her father had jumped out of his seat, grabbing Sara and swinging her around the room in a wild hug.

"We finally have a player!" he had yelled. "We're finally gonna win this thing!"

She always felt bad that he never got to see Lemieux lead his team to the Stanley Cup.

Unlike her father, she wasn't committed to just one team. She always cheered for the Pens, but other teams found their way into her heart as well. During her time at Harvard, she was a stanch Boston Bruins supporter. When San Francisco finally acquired a team by extension in the early 1990s, Sara immediately became a San Jose Sharks fan.

"So, our man was killed on the ice," Grissom said, bringing Sara's thoughts back to the present, and to the case they were working. He picked up a list of penalties that their victim had incurred during his time on the ice and began reading them off, the disbelief in his voice increasing with each one.

"Boys will be boys," Sara said when he finished the list.

"Yeah, sounds like these boys went to a fight and a hockey game broke out."

"You just don't like sports," Sara said, defending her sport.

"That's not true, I've been a baseball fan my whole life."

"Baseball," Sara repeated, turning to look at him. "Well, that figures … all those stats."

"It's a beautiful game," Grissom said.

Sara nodded with a smile and turned back to the ice. "Since when are you interested in beauty?"

"Since I met you," Grissom said without looking up from his papers.

Sara felt an explosion in her stomach. She turned to look at him, but he did not look back at her.

"So, we'll start at the opposite goal, work our way across the blue line to center ice." He finally turned to look at her.

"Sure," she said, desperately trying once again to hold onto her composure.

Grissom got up to go the opposite goal, leaving Sara sitting on the bench in a state of shock. Looking back even years later, she was never quite sure how she made her way from the bleachers to the ice, where she and Grissom searched for evidence.

* * *

Sara felt like she worked for days before she got home again. When she arrived, her answering machine flashed that she had a message. She pressed the button to play it back.

"Hi, Sara, it's Hank. I just wanted to see what night you're off this week … I thought we could go see a movie. Give me a call and let me know. Talk to you soon."

Sara sighed and picked up the phone. She did not dial Hank's number. It only rang twice before it was answered.

"Hello?"

"I've got a huge problem."

Mary giggled. "Hi, Sara. It's lovely to talk to you, too. I'm fine, thanks. Now, let's hear your problem."

"Grissom is into me all of a sudden."

Mary paused. "What?"

"He sent me flowers."

"_What_?"

"Okay, they're not flowers, but it's a flowering plant. A gerber daisy."

"Why did he send you flowers?" Mary asked.

"We had a fight the other day," Sara said. "Well, more I had a fight. He doesn't really fight back. But, I got mad and threatened to quit. Catherine made me promise to wait a week before I made any major decisions, and Grissom's been all nice to me since then, and then today I got this plant that he sent me. And, _then_, he told me that I'm beautiful!"

"Well, you are," Mary said loyally.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Mar."

"How did he say it?"

"We were talking about sports, and he said that baseball is a beautiful game –"

"Or the most boring game ever," Mary cut in.

"Mar …"

"Sorry. Go ahead."

"Anyway, so I asked when he developed this interest in beauty, and he said it was when he met me."

"Whoa."

"Yeah, seriously." Sara laughed hollowly. "You know, two months ago, I would have been thrilled with this. Totally, completely elated. But, now … I came home to a message from Hank, asking when we can get together to go to a movie."

"Oh."

"Mary, I don't know what to do," Sara moaned. "I've got Hank, who has been nothing but kind and patient, who has put up with so much crap from me and my job … But, I've got Grissom suddenly acting like he cares …"

"Go with Hank," Mary said without hesitation.

"What?" Sara asked, surprised by her abruptness.

"Stick with Hank, Sara. He's a great guy, he's not going to leave you for his job, and … well, sweetie, he is more your age."

"I thought age didn't matter."

"It doesn't," Mary said. "But, still …"

"You're right," Sara sighed. "He doesn't deserve me leaving him for something that might happen with Grissom."

"Exactly."

"All right. I'll call him back."

"Excellent," Mary said cheerfully. "Let me know how your date goes."

"I will," Sara said, reaching out to finger the petals of her red gerber daisy. "I'll talk to you soon, Mary. Thanks for listening."

"No problem. That's what friends are for."


	13. Definitions

A/N: I want to start this chapter with a shout out to all eight of the lovely ladies I've served or will serve as a bridesmaid. They've taught me more about weddings than most people could ever want to know … and I know that if I ever get married, they'll support me the way I've supported them.

Maisy13 – Before you start reading, remember what Sara taught us. Smiling suppresses the gag reflex. Hehe.

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Definitions_

"Thanks for taking me to the movie," Sara smiled as she and Hank walked to her apartment door.

"Thanks for agreeing to come with me," he replied.

"Do you want to come in?" Sara asked as she unlocked the door.

"Sure," Hank smiled.

He followed her into the apartment. She turned on lights as she entered.

"Would you like a drink?"

"Sure," he said again.

Smiling, Sara went into the kitchen to get two beers from the fridge. Hank walked past her into the living room, where he sat down on the couch. Sara joined him, passing him a bottle. Hank put his arm around her, cuddling her against him.

"So, should we plan our next outing?"

"Okay," Sara said. "When are you …?" She trailed off. "Oh!" she exclaimed, jumping up off the couch and throwing Hank's arm off her. "I'm so glad you're here!"

Hank grinned. "Well, I'm glad I'm here, too."

"No, that's not what I … we need to buy our tickets."

"Tickets? For what?"

Sara rolled her eyes as she went to her desk and turned on her laptop. "Chicago? Mary's wedding? Remember? It's less than a month away. If we don't buy those tickets soon, we'll be within fourteen days of our departure date, and I'll have to sell off my very limited jewelry collection to pay for them."

Hank frowned slightly and put his beer down. "Sara … I thought I told you. I can't go."

Sara frowned. "What do you mean, you can't go?"

"I can't get the time off."

"You can't get the time off?" she repeated.

"No."

"I don't understand," Sara said, trying and failing to stay calm. "Didn't you ask for the time off?"

"Sara, calm down …"

"I am calm!" she yelled, her temper flaring up.

"I beg to differ," Hank said, standing up and crossing to her. "Sara, you're getting all upset over nothing …"

"I don't believe this!" Sara yelled. "This is not 'nothing,' Hank! I'm the maid of honor! We've had this wedding date forever! It's not like I just told you yesterday!"

Hank looked at her in surprise. "Why are you so upset about this?"

"Mary wants to meet you!" she exclaimed. "I want you to meet her! Hank, she's my best friend. She's like a sister to me. This is like you refusing to meet my family."

"I think you're overreacting."

"Oh, it's overreacting to want my boyfriend to meet my best friend?"

"Whoa," Hank said, backing up a step. "Who said that I'm your boyfriend?"

Sara stared at him in shock.

"I mean … Sara, we've never talked about this. I didn't know that you thought …"

"You …"

"We need to talk about this," Hank said. "I never …"

"You know what? We're not talking about this now," Sara said. "Go."

"What?" he asked in shock.

"Just leave. I don't want to see you right now."

"Sara …"

"Go!" she yelled.

Shaking his head, Hank got up from the couch. "Call me when you're calmer, okay?"

"Oh, yeah, I'll be sure to do that," Sara hissed.

Hank left, nearly slamming the door behind him. Sara sank down onto the couch.

"I hate men."

* * *

Sara was extremely peevish for the next few weeks. Her coworkers learned very quickly not to cross her; after she nearly tore Nick's head off for asking if anything was wrong, they were more than willing to give her space. They all knew that she was serving as her friend's maid of honor, and assumed that she was stressed over the wedding. She let them think that, knowing that she didn't want to tell them about her relationship – if it could be called that – with Hank. Greg kept his silence; he never even approached Sara to ask if she and Hank had had a fight, and she certainly wasn't about to confide in him.

All in all, she was rather relieved to get on the Chicago-bound plane that would take her to Mary's wedding. She could hardly wait to be able to talk freely again.

As she got off the plane in Chicago, she sighed. She had forgotten how much she hated O'Hare Airport. It was like a maze, and she had gotten lost every time she'd been there. She did manage to work her way through to baggage claim, where Mary was waiting for her. She grinned at the sight of her friend, who was bouncing up and down in anticipation. Mary spotted her and ran across the crowded room to greet her.

"You're here, you're here!"

Sara laughed as she caught Mary in a hug. "I can't believe how fast we got to your wedding! It seems like only yesterday you were calling to tell me that you were engaged," she teased.

Mary laughed joyfully. "Tomorrow night, Sara, I'll be a married woman." She linked her arm through Sara's. "Come on, your baggage carousel is this way. I checked the monitor when I got here."

"Great."

Mary looked around. "Where's Hank?"

Sara sighed. "He couldn't come."

Mary's eyebrows shot up. "Why?"

"He couldn't get the time off."

"Oh, that's too bad. I really wanted to meet him."

"I wanted him to meet you, too."

"Why didn't you tell me that he wasn't coming?" Mary asked.

"I don't know," Sara shrugged. "I guess I kept hoping that he'd somehow manage it so that he could come."

Mary hugged her tightly. "You're here. That's all I care about."

"Yeah," Sara said, returning the hug.

"Hey," Mary said, pulling back and looking into Sara's eyes, "don't be mad at him over this. I don't want you two breaking up over my wedding."

"If we do … well, I can't say _break up_, really … it has nothing to do with you."

"What do you mean?" Mary asked, frowning in confusion.

"I went too far, Mary," Sara sighed. "I made too many assumptions. I had this idea that we were … I said something about him being my boyfriend, and he told me that I was going too far with our relationship."

"Oh, Sara," Mary sighed.

"It's my fault," Sara said. "I never should have assumed that he was my boyfriend. We hadn't talked about it."

"Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Have you and Hank talked about it?"

Sara flushed slightly. "I haven't talked to him at all since the day we had that fight."

"Sara," Mary moaned. "Promise me that you'll talk to him when you get back to Vegas."

"Fine, I'll talk to him," Sara sighed. She reached past Mary to pick up her garment bag as it cycled past them. "Here's my dress," she said with relief. "I was so afraid it would get lost."

"Are you changing the subject?" Mary asked with narrowed eyes.

"Can't we please just drop it?" Sara asked. "This weekend is about you, Mar, not me."

Mary smiled. "All right. But, you and Hank had better make up by the time I get back from my honeymoon."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

Sara was a bit nervous about going into Mary and Tom's wedding rehearsal. She had met and disliked the other bridesmaids, Allie, Kelly, Rebecca and Julia, at the shower. In her opinion, they were all giggly, sorority types – the sort of girls that Nick undoubtedly dated during college. But, Allie and Kelly were Mary's cousins, and Rebecca and Julia Tom's sisters, so they had to be part of the wedding party.

Although she knew the bridesmaids, the groomsmen were all new to her. Apparently, she wasn't the only one; as the wedding coordinator lined them up, all the girls were introducing themselves to their partners.

"I'm Sara," Sara said, offering her hand to the best man.

"John," he said, shaking her hand. "I'm Tom's brother. What's your connection to the happy couple?"

Sara smiled. "Mary's my best friend. We were roommates in college."

"Oh, you're the one who brought Tom and Mary together!" John said with dawning understanding.

Sara smiled a bit uncomfortably. "So they tell me."

"Oh, yeah, all the credit is yours," John asserted. "Mary's roommate, Tom's classmate … hey, you're the crime scene investigator, right?"

"That's me."

"I'm majoring in forensic science. Maybe I could pick your brain later?"

Sara opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by the wedding coordinator.

"Okay, everyone, let's run this entrance into the church."

Rehearsing for the wedding actually wasn't so bad. The wedding coordinator and minister did their best to make sure that the wedding party and the bride and groom were confident with the progression of events for the ceremony. They ran through the entire thing twice, then called it a night.

"Ladies, you'll get here at noon tomorrow," the minister said. "Our church coordinators will show you to the bridal room when you arrive. Gentlemen, we'll see you half an hour later. The ceremony will begin at one. Any questions?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"Great," he said cheerfully. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. Try to get some rest tonight."

Sara wanted to laugh at the thought. She was staying with Mary at her parents' house. She was sure that sleep would be the one thing she would not get.

* * *

"Can I ask you something?"

Sara rolled over to face Mary in the double bed they shared in her childhood room. "Sure."

"Do you love Hank?"

Sara propped herself up on her arms. "Mary, I thought we agreed that this weekend would be all about you."

"I know," Mary said. "But, this thing with you and Hank is really bothering me. Will you just answer my question?"

"I don't know," Sara said honestly. "How stupid is that? I'm all upset over this, and I'm not even sure how I feel about that guy. I'm so confused, Mary." She buried her face in her pillow for a minute, then looked at Mary again. "Grissom says that's the best place for a scientist to be."

"I don't think there's a science to this, sweetie," Mary said.

"I know," Sara moaned. "Unfortunately, that tends to be the way I think."

"Well, tell me how you feel," Mary said. "I'll help you sort it out."

"I just … I really felt like we had hit _that_ stage in our relationship, you know? I feel like I'm his girlfriend. I guess I just assumed that he would feel the same way." She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. "I suck at being a girl."

Mary laughed. "What on earth is that supposed to mean?"

"Girls are supposed to be all over talking about their feelings. I obviously can't do that … I can't even tell the guy I've been seeing that I want to define our relationship. That is so very manly of me."

Mary giggled. "Sara, I swear to God, sometimes you are the most ridiculous person I know."

"I'm not being ridiculous," Sara said defensively. "If I were better at this type of stuff, Hank and I would probably be fine."

"If you were better at this type of stuff, you wouldn't be _you_," Mary said gently. "And, if that were the case, chances are, Hank wouldn't have asked you out on a second date."

Sara sighed. "Can we please just worry about you now?"

Mary laughed. "Why would we need to worry about me?"

Sara sat up to look at the wedding gown that hung on the closet door. "Well, I think getting you into that dress could be cause for worry. It looks like it might weigh more than you do!"

Mary laughed. "It'll be fine. Just wait until you see it on me. It's so beautiful."

Sara smiled. "_You're_ beautiful. I'm sure you just make the dress look good."

Mary smiled and grabbed Sara's hand, squeezing it tightly. "You're the best friend I could ask for, Sara. I just want you to be as happy as I am."

"I am happy, Mary," Sara said, trying to say the words with conviction, to believe them herself. "I really am."

* * *

A light sleeper in the best of conditions, Sara was awake as soon as Mary got out of bed in the morning. She smiled at her friend's jerky, nervous movements as she pulled on her bathrobe.

"Good morning, bride," she smiled.

Mary jumped. "Sara! You don't have to get up just because I did! Our hair appointment isn't until nine. Get some more sleep."

"What time is it now?"

Mary glanced at the clock. "Six."

Sara sat up. "I'm not tired. I'll get up with you."

"Don't you lie to me," Mary said. "I know we didn't stop talking until after two last night."

Sara laughed. "You've said yourself that I'm nocturnal. Besides the fact that I sleep strange hours, I'm jetlagged, and, as you know, something of an insomniac. My internal clock is completely screwed up. Believe me, the chances of me falling back asleep are slim."

"All right," Mary sighed. "Come on, let's go attempt to eat some breakfast."

Mary's nerves became more apparent as their hair appointment loomed closer. She could barely eat. Between Sara and Mary's mother, they managed to get her to drink a glass of orange juice and eat half a muffin. Once she had finished picking at her food, she went up to take a shower. She was in the shower so long that she made them nervous.

"Sara, go check on her," her mother said. "I'm afraid she's going to drown herself in that shower."

Sara smiled. "Unlikely, but possible. I'll check it out."

Sara made it up the stairs just as the water turned off. She knocked on the bathroom door.

"Mary? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Mary called back tensely. "I'll be out in a minute, and then the shower is all yours."

"Thanks."

Once they were dressed and showered – Sara wearing the button down shirt that Catherine had insisted would be best to change out of once her hair was done – Mary's mother drove them to the salon. The other bridesmaids were already there, waiting for them. Rebecca had brought coffee for them all; Sara suddenly found herself thinking that she wasn't such an awful person, after all.

The morning in the salon passed incredibly slowly for Sara. She, Mary and Allie had their hair done first. Kelly ran around, taking pictures of them with their hair in various stages of style creation. Sara was sure that after the wedding, she would have to hunt this girl down and burn the shot of her with her hair teased up like some sort of throw-back to the 1980s.

By the time they left the salon, Sara had to admit that they looked nice. She had not had her hair done like this in years, but she liked the effect of the curls piled up on top of her head. With a pang, she realized how much she would have loved for Hank to see her like this … and Catherine … and Grissom …

No. Grissom did not need to see her like this. She could take pictures to show Hank and Catherine, but Grissom … She firmly pushed the image of him out of her mind.

Mary's mother drove them back to her house, where they threw together everything they would need for the day. Fifteen minutes later, the limo arrived to take them to the church.

Sara, as the maid of honor, had the job of helping Mary into her dress. She and Mary's mother helped her step into the dress; then Sara laced it up the back while her mother made sure it was hanging right.

"Oh, Mary," she sighed as Sara finished tying the corset back. "You look lovely."

Sara looked up to see tears standing in the older woman's eyes. Smiling slightly, she stepped around to see Mary from the front.

"You make that dress beautiful, Mary," she beamed. "Just like I said you would."

Mary smiled, and leaned forward to hug her mother and to kiss Sara's cheek. "Thank you both. I couldn't have done this without you."

Sara broke the tender moment by looking at her watch. "Okay, we need to line up in fifteen minutes, so, bridesmaids, let's put our dresses on!"

There was a general flurry of activity as the girls ran to grab their pale pink dresses. Laughing, they zipped each other's dresses and fixed each other's hair. Finally, they all picked up their flowers and lined up in the hallway.

The music began, and Julia, the lead-off bridesmaid, began her slow progression down the aisle. Mary, who was standing behind Sara, grabbed her arm.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?" Sara asked in confusion.

"For this. For being my friend – for being my sister." Mary hugged her tightly. "I love you, Sara."

"I love you, too."

Sara's turn came, and she processed slowly down the aisle, trying not to focus on the eyes following her. She focused instead on Tom, who beamed at her as she drew closer to him. She smiled back, thinking that she never could have guessed when Tom was assigned to be her lab partner that she would one day watch him marry her best friend. She finally came to a stop across from the best man, who smiled at her. She smiled back, and turned to the back of the church, where Mary had appeared on her father's arm.

Sara's eyes filled with tears. By the time her friend was halfway down the aisle, the tears spilled over. She didn't even bother to wipe them away.

Sara hated weddings. She hated the very idea of them, and she wasn't entirely comfortable with the concept of marriage. Even so, there was no way to stop the tears.

Mary truly was a beautiful bride.

* * *

Sara's flight back to Vegas left early on Sunday morning. She hoped that she could get home in time to sleep for a few hours before going in to work that night. Not for the first time, she regretted not asking for Sunday night off, too. It would have been far easier to go back to work the next day.

The reception had gone late Saturday night; Sara was exhausted when she sat down in her seat on the plane. She fell asleep as soon as they were airborne, and did not wake up until the plane touched down at McCarran. She stumbled a bit as she stood up. The man sitting behind her kindly helped her take her bag from the overhead compartment.

"Thank you," she smiled.

"Rough weekend?" he asked with a smile.

"Stressful," she replied. "Thanks again."

"You're welcome."

Sara wheeled her bag from the plane to baggage claim. She glanced up at the monitors, trying to see which carousel her garment bag would be on.

"Sara?"

She looked around in surprise. "Hank?"

He smiled. "Hi. Welcome back."

"Hi," she repeated, completely shocked to see him. "What are you doing here?"

He smiled again. "I thought you might need a ride home."

"And you thought I'd want to ride with you," Sara said coldly. She paused and looked away for a moment, then back at him. "How did you even know when I was coming back?"

"Warrick told me."

"Warrick needs to stop telling people my plans."

He sighed. "Sara, we need to talk."

"I thought that I had said far too much already."

"I was wrong, okay?" Hank said, running his hand through his hair. "I never should have yelled at you for saying what you did. I would …" He reached out and took her hand. "I would be lucky to be your boyfriend, and I should have realized that long before now. I'm so sorry that I hurt you. That was never my intention."

Sara looked away. "And you think that makes it all better?"

"I'm sure it doesn't," he said, reaching up to touch her face with his free hand. "But, I think that it's a good place to start." He smiled. "Come on, Sara. Let me take you home. Let's talk about this. Let's get back to the relationship we had … or, to an even better one."

She finally smiled and squeezed the hand that held hers. "All right."

Hank grinned and leaned in to kiss her. "Thank you."

She smiled against his lips, and slid closer, putting her arms around his neck. "Thanks for coming to get me. I hate cabs."

"I know."

She giggled and kissed him. "You'll stay and talk for awhile?"

"Yeah." He kissed her deeply. "Or not talk."

"Or not," she agreed, kissing him again.


	14. Truth

A/N: This is not the chapter I set out to write. It is the chapter that somehow managed to write itself. Originally, this chapter was called "Truth and Consequences," but the "Truth" section got so long that I decided to split the chapter in half. Unfortunately, my favorite scene ended up in the next chapter, so you'll have to wait a little longer to read it. I hope you like this chapter as is!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are taken from episode 301, "The Accused Is Entitled."

* * *

_Truth _

"Hey, Cath, have you seen Grissom?"

"I think he's in his office," Catherine replied. "What's up, Jim?"

"We've got quite the homicide on our hands," Brass replied. "A woman was found dead in Tom Haviland's room."

"Tom Haviland?" Catherine repeated. "The movie star?"

"That's the one. I need Gil at the scene."

"I'll go get him. Are you on your way now?"

"Yeah. Just send him on behind me."

"Sure, Jim."

Brass handed her the file with the limited details that were already known. "Thanks, Catherine."

"No problem."

Catherine left Brass and made her way down the hall to Grissom's office. His door was open; she could see him sitting at his desk, doing paperwork. She smiled, knowing that he'd be thrilled to leave the paperwork behind in favor of a new case.

"Hey, Grissom," she said as she walked in.

He didn't look up.

Catherine frowned. She had certainly seen Grissom too engrossed in a task to respond before, but that all-consuming task was never paperwork. He was usually at his most distractible when doing case reviews. She stepped closer.

"Grissom?"

Again, he ignored her.

Feeling a bit of panic, she walked up until she was standing directly across his desk from him. "Gil!"

He finally looked up, clearly surprised to see her. "Hi, Catherine."

She gave him an odd look. "Are you all right?"

He frowned. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just … never mind. Look, Brass wanted me to give you this." She passed him the file in her hands. "A girl was found dead in Tom Haviland's room."

He looked at her in confusion. "Am I supposed to know who he is?"

Catherine couldn't help but grin. "I wouldn't expect you to."

Grissom scanned the file Catherine had given him and nodded. "Okay, I'll take Warrick with me. You, Sara and Nicky stay close, just in case we need you."

"Right."

Catherine left his office, and Grissom sat back in his chair. He felt all the breath leave his body as he exhaled. She had made it all the way to his desk before he even knew she was in the room. Things were getting bad – and fast. He made his decision in a heartbeat. He would not process evidence in this case. He would follow his job description to the letter and simply supervise. He couldn't let his problems jeopardize the entire team's performance.

* * *

An hour later, Sara, Catherine and Nick walked into a mass of reporters and outraged fans. They watched as Brass led Tom Haviland away in handcuffs.

"I like his movies," Sara said.

Catherine, on the phone with the DA, ignored her. Nick looked at her as though she had lost her mind. Tom Haviland's movies, while popular, were never considered true cinematic genius.

"Some of them are good," Sara said weakly. She hid her smile as she thought of the most recent Tom Haviland movie she had seen. Hank had brought it to her place to watch on their last night off. The beginning of the movie was good, but … she had no idea how the movie ended.

Within minutes, each CSI had been assigned a task to help with their extremely high-profile case. Grissom's instructions were to do their jobs as if this were any other case with any other suspect. Taking his words to heart, Sara did her best to forget that it was Tom Haviland who had blood in his nail beds, and followed Catherine up to the suite where the girl had been murdered.

Once inside the suite, Catherine made her way into the bathroom, while Sara began taking photos of the girl and the bed she was sprawled across. The body had just been removed when Hank appeared beside her. Sara glanced up from taking pictures of a bra that had been thrown on the bed.

"Hey, Sara," he said crouching down beside her.

"Hey," she said. "I thought you left."

"I need to talk to you," he said.

"Uh," Sara said, taking a picture and looking critically across the bed, "can it wait till after work?"

"It's about work. When I tried to revive the victim, the bra was in the way, so I repositioned it. I didn't think about it till I was at the elevator."

"Oh. Um … can you tell me where it was, exactly?"

Hank told her where to put the bra, and Sara took more pictures. He thanked her, but she brushed it off, telling him that she'd include it in her report.

"Sorry," he said.

She smiled at him, trying hard not to think about the Tom Haviland movie they had watched only days before. He returned the smile, and left just as Catherine walked in from the bathroom. Catherine's eyes followed the young EMT out of the room; in an instant, she was sure that he had been there to flirt with Sara. Retaining her professional, on-the-job attitude, she chose not to comment.

* * *

As her shift continued, her conversation with Hank was driven completely from Sara's mind. She sat in the break room with her team, eating lunch, when Grissom and Catherine dropped a bombshell on them: they had to be ready to testify against Tom Haviland in a preliminary hearing in less than three days. Greg's jaw hit the floor.

"I'm only done processing half the evidence."

"Well, you're going to have to call in help," Catherine replied.

Sara felt sorry for Greg. He always prided himself on his ability to keep up with the incredible pace of his lab. She was sure that this would be a blow to him.

But then, the bad news continued. Grissom informed them that the defense team included a forensic scientist, who would hover over them, watching them process their evidence. The evidence proved Tom's guilt; they all knew that. This scientist's job was to prove that it had not been properly collected and processed, which could have it excluded – which could mean that their movie-star-suspect would never stand trial.

"So, who's their guy?" Sara asked, already hating this person who made his or her living by making others – colleagues – look bad.

"Dr. Philip Gerard," Grissom said, giving Sara a significant look. He knew that she alone knew of this connection in his past.

This time, Sara's jaw hit the floor. "Philip Gerard," she repeated. "Your mentor is their forensic scientist?"

* * *

"Man, can you believe they're doing this to Griss?" Warrick asked as he, Nick and Sara left the break room.

"It's smart," Nick said. "He trained Grissom; he'll know his weaknesses – presumably, weaknesses that he passed on to us when he trained us."

"Um, he didn't train me," Sara said.

Warrick and Nick grinned at each other over her head. "Well, aren't you just the special one, Little Miss I-Came-To-This-Lab-Because-Grissom-Asked-Me?"

"Shut up," Sara said, lightly smacking Nick's arm. "I'm just saying, it's not entirely fair to think that we all do things exactly as Grissom does."

"Um, guys," Greg said, catching up with them in time to hear Sara's comment, "I hate to break it to you, but when it comes to physical evidence collection, you all _do_ do things exactly as Grissom does."

Sara wrinkled up her nose. "Is there no individuality in this lab?"

"Not really," Greg laughed. "But, it's always been what makes you strong as a team. Don't look at it as this guy looking for your weaknesses or Grissom's weaknesses – look at it as a chance to prove how good you are."

"Hey, yeah, Greg's right," Nick said. "Look at that, Greggo! You've had a moment of brilliance."

"It happens from time to time," Greg grinned. "Okay, I'm going to go into my lab, which I will not leave for the next seventy-two hours. See you guys later."

"I think there's some surveillance tape with my name on it," Nick said, heading for the AV lab.

"Bed sheets," Sara said, turning a corner.

She pulled on a lab coat as she entered the lay out room, and found the bag containing the sheets from the hotel bed. She stretched out the bloody sheet, pinning it up so that she could study it.

It was easy to identify the blood that had come directly from the victim's wound. More confusing was a strange, waffle-like pattern, presumably in the victim's blood. Sara was comparing it to various objects from the hotel room when Grissom came in, his lab coat suggesting that he was ready to work.

"Hey," she greeted him with a smile. "Checking up on me?"

"Just trying to be of some assistance," he smiled. "I'm more than confident in your ability to do your job."

Sara sighed. "Grissom …"

"Yes?"

She wasn't sure exactly how to phrase her thoughts. "I can't believe they're doing this to you." Lame, but it got her point across.

Grissom shook his head. "This movie star wants the best defense money can buy. This is one way to get it. They're going to try to rattle us, Sara, but we can't let them. We all know what this lab can do. We all know that we always do the best we can." He smiled. "I can't ask for anything more than that from my team. I know you'll all make me proud."

Sara smiled. "I hope so."

Grissom walked away to look at some crime scene photos, while Sara returned to her scrutiny of the sheets. After a moment, he approached her again, shining his flashlight on the sheets to draw her attention to yet another unexplained blood pattern. They were deep in discussion when something flashed behind them.

They both turned to see a tall, older man taking pictures of the evidence Sara and Grissom had spread across the table. He looked up with a falsely apologetic smile.

"Sorry, Gil. Just doing my job."

Grissom introduced Sara to Dr. Gerard, careful to note that anything she said to him would be on the record. The older man began questioning Sara about the photos she had taken at the crime scene, the evidence she had transported and her storage of the gloves she had worn. Grissom couldn't help but feel proud of Sara as she spoke. With each word, she proved her ability and her excellence as a CSI. He had known that his team would come through this horrible ordeal admirably.

Dr. Gerard passed a folder to Grissom. "The DA just provided me with copies of your pictures of the victim's bra."

"Well, we already know the bra was moved," Grissom said, opening the folder. "Sara filed a supplemental report to that affect."

"I know," Dr. Gerard said. "I wish she'd mentioned her relationship with the EMT who moved the bra."

"Relationship?" Grissom said in complete confusion and shock.

For Sara, it was as though time stopped. She heard without processing as Dr. Gerard implied that her relationship with Hank had somehow changed the way in which she handled the case. Anger surged through her. She spoke to justify herself, but was quickly cut off by Grissom, who suggested that he and Dr. Gerard to go his office to talk.

Dr. Gerard left the room, and Grissom looked as Sara. She wanted desperately to look anywhere but his eyes. The pain, the disappointment in them was unbelievable. It was as if she had betrayed him, or as if he had never really known her.

Sara rattled off something about the sheets, the blood and DNA, and Grissom left, the disappointment in his eyes still visible.

Sara stood rooted in her spot after he had left. With all she had endured in her life, most things were bearable. But, in those few moments, she had found something that she could not bear: Grissom's disappointment.

* * *

Sara pulled on her most modest court suit, carefully placing her other clothes in her locker. She spent a lot of quality time in front of the mirror, fixing her hair and make up. She couldn't remember the last time she had taken such care with her appearance. Finally satisfied, she walked out of the locker room.

"Hey, hot stuff," Greg called.

Sara couldn't help but smile as she turned to face him. "Greg, I'm facing a horrific prelim interview. Can't you try to be serious?"

"I am being serious," Greg grinned. "You look hot."

"Well, thanks."

"I know you'll knock 'em dead in court," he added.

"I hope so." Sara glanced at her watch. "I need to leave."

"Good luck, Sara."

"Thanks," she said again.

Sara continued down the hall. She saw Grissom in the temporary evidence vault, comparing a watchband to the waffle-pattern on the sheets. She stopped to tell him that she had already checked it, trying to save him some time. They talked about the case for a moment before he fully looked at her, noticing how she was dressed.

"You look nice," he said.

"Thanks," she replied, expertly concealing her emotions. How was it that this one, almost off-handed comment from Grissom meant more to her than Greg's repeated compliments? "Wish me luck." She turned to leave for court.

"Sara."

She turned back to face him again.

"Whatever happens in court, it's not because you're seeing this guy. You deserve to have a life."

Grissom turned back to his evidence, and Sara left the room. Regret filled them both, but neither stopped to consider why. If they had stopped for a minute to think – which, given their intense work schedule, they couldn't – they would have realized what it was they were regretting.

* * *

The hearing was a veritable nightmare. Sara watched as her colleagues were destroyed on the stand, her one desperate thought being that maybe she would do better than they did.

Nick went first. The fact that he had not put case identifiers on his photos did plenty to hurt his credibility, although, as Catherine pointed out, they were fortunate that the judge was still willing to allow the evidence.

Warrick was next. He endured a far more personal attack than Nick did; Marjorie Wescott, the defense attorney, brought up his gambling addiction. Although Sara knew that Warrick had not placed a bet in at least two years, it didn't matter to the court. It was enough to call his character into question, to discredit his testimony.

Finally, it was her turn. She took her seat, and prepared herself to answer the questions as honestly and with as little emotion as possible.

As anticipated, the defense started by asking her about the repositioning of the bra, stating that perhaps Hank had moved to where she wanted it. To Sara, this was a completely asinine suggestion. What difference did it make to her where the bra was on the bed?

"I didn't _want_ it anywhere," she said. "I collect evidence without emotion."

"You do get emotionally involved, though, with the men on your cases," Marjorie stated. "Hank Pettigrew isn't the first time."

"Excuse me?" Sara asked, already insulted. To imply that she routinely dated suspects, or paramedics, or, God forbid, Nick or Warrick, her two surrogate "big brothers" … what sort of twisted game was this woman playing?

"A murder investigation at the residence of one …" Marjorie flipped open a folder as though checking a fact. "… Charles Rentoria? Eyewitness stated he saw you and your supervisor, Gil Grissom, standing alone, outside, and you were touching him a romantic gesture."

Sara's mind flew back, trying to remember the exact circumstances. It all came back to her in a flood. She, Warrick and Grissom had been tearing down the walls in an apartment building, trying to find a dead body. Insect activity, as well as the smell, told them that it was there, but they couldn't find it. Completely frustrated, Grissom had gone outside; Sara had followed. She chatted with him for a minute, trying to help him calm down, and suggested that they take a walk. He refused, and she touched his face. His immediate reaction was one of surprise and confusion. Horrified by what she had done, Sara had quickly blamed it on chalk from the dry wall, stating that it was covering his face. Nearly a year later, she fell back on the same excuse again.

"I brushed chalk from his face," she said, trying her best to look insulted at the implication that she had been somehow fondling Grissom at a crime scene – which, really, wasn't all that hard.

"Is that what they're calling it now?" Marjorie asked viciously.

"Objection, your honor!" exclaimed the DA.

"Dry wall dust," Sara said, speaking over the DA. "We were looking for a body."

"It's a fair question, your honor," Marjorie said. "Just how far will Ms. Sidle go on the evidence to please her boss, Gil Grissom … whether he returns her attentions or not."

Sara felt as though she had been smacked across the face. She barely heard the judge dismissing her, and she wasn't quite sure how she made it back to her seat next to Warrick. He looked at her with concern, but she did not make eye contact.

She couldn't face them yet. And she had no idea how she would ever face _him_.

* * *

Sara barely remembered Catherine's testimony. Something about Catherine being an exotic dancer, about her proficiency scores … Sara was sure that Catherine did just fine. Once she was done, the court was granted an hour recess. Sara shot out of the courtroom. She practically ran down the hall, not stopping until she was outside. She took gulps of fresh air, hoping that it would help her calm down.

"Sara?"

She looked up to see Warrick coming closer to her. "Hi," she said listlessly.

"You can't take this so personally," he said, stopping next to her. "She was out to destroy all of us. It wasn't just you. She attacked my personal life too, and Catherine's."

"I know," Sara said quietly. "I guess … I feel like I'm the only one who had all her secrets put out on the table."

However Warrick chose to interpret her statement, he didn't show it. He put his hand on her shoulder, pulling her against him. "It's going to be fine, Sara. You'll see. Nothing's changed. We're all still the same team."

Sara sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. "That woman is pure evil."

"So is Gerard," Warrick added. "I can't believe that man actually taught Grissom. They are nothing alike." He paused. "From what Grissom has always said, I don't think Gerard was always like this. I think it's hard for Grissom to see him this way."

"Yeah, I'm sure it is," Sara said. She paused. "Warrick … Do you think we're letting him down?"

"Letting who down?"

"Grissom."

"No," Warrick said empathetically. "We all know that everything we've done has been our best, right?"

"If it had been our best, would they be able to destroy us like they have?"

Warrick considered his words for a moment. "If you could go back in time, back to when we walked into that hotel, would you do a single thing differently?"

Sara was quiet for a minute. "No," she said at last.

"Then there's your answer."

Sara finally pulled away from him so that she could smile up into his face. "You're right."

Warrick grinned at her. "Of course I am." He glanced at his watch. "Want to go grab something to eat before we have to be back in court?"

"Okay."

Warrick took her hand to lead her back inside. "Let's go find Nick."

Sara smiled. "Good idea."

* * *

When the recess was over, Sara, Nick and Warrick walked back into the courtroom. Catherine had saved them seats near the front of the room.

"Who's up next?" Nick asked as they sat down.

"Grissom," Catherine replied.

Sara and the two men exchanged startled looks.

"I thought he wasn't processing evidence?" Sara asked.

"He changed his mind," Catherine replied.

"All rise."

They fell silent and stood as the judge entered the room, taking their seats again when instructed to do so.

Grissom was called to the stand; with the help of the DA, he explained that the unique waffle pattern that Sara had been staring at for three days had been made by Tom Haviland. The DA seemed content with this testimony, and did not ask any further questions.

Marjorie Wescott stepped up to cross-examine him, asking, in a far softer voice than she had used in the previous interrogations, how he had come to his conclusion. Grissom stared at her in complete bewilderment. He asked her to repeat the question. She did. He asked her to repeat it again.

Sara frowned. He was suffering, struggling, and she had no idea why. The tension emanating off him could be felt all the way where she was sitting.

Finally, Grissom answered the question. He enhanced photos of a scar on the suspect's knee, stating that it had produced the pattern on the sheets, thereby placing Tom at the murder. Grissom was so confident as he read quotes from tabloids and provided pictures taken from Tom Haviland's production files, that the team could not help but laugh.

"Where did Grissom get those quotes?" Sara asked in a whisper.

"Greg's magazines," Catherine whispered back.

Sara wanted to laugh even harder.

The judge ruled that Tom would stand trial, and the team gleefully leapt to its feet. They had made it – they had proved themselves to be every bit as professional and competent as their reputation made them out to be.

"We're going to celebrate," Grissom said as soon as they were out of the courtroom. "I'm taking you all out for dinner."

They all stared at him in shock. Catherine recovered first.

"Well … thanks, Gil," she said.

"Yeah, thanks," the others echoed, still floored by their boss's generosity.

He grinned. "We all look nice … let's go somewhere fancy." He glanced at Sara, and amended his statement. "Somewhere fancy that serves vegetarian meals."

Sara grinned, but couldn't help feeling a little nervous. She hoped he would be so willing to be kind to her when the news of her little "crush" leaked out.

Yet, even though she was terrified of what would happen, she couldn't help but notice how incredibly handsome he looked in his suit.


	15. Consequences

A/N: This is the chapter that didn't want to end! It's not exactly super-sized, but it's definitely the dinner portion. Enjoy, and thanks for reading and reviewing!

Maisy13: Seriously. Scene two – SMILE.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration is taken from episodes 303, "Let the Seller Beware" and 315, "Lady Heather's Box." Some dialogue is also borrowed from episode 315.

* * *

_Consequences_

"Did you know?"

"Nah," Warrick said as he and Nick walked into the locker room. "She never said a word to me."

"Me, either." Nick shook his head. "I can't believe she kept something like that from us!"

"Maybe she thought … I don't know what she thought," Warrick acknowledged, taking off his tie. As much as he appreciated Grissom taking them all out for dinner, he did not appreciate having to stay in his court suit longer than necessary.

"Well, she deserves a little happiness," Nick said, hanging his jacket in his locker. "If she can find it with Hank, more power to her."

"You know, he did tell me to say hi to her for him at a crime scene once," Warrick said slowly. "I didn't think anything of it at the time, but …"

Nick laughed. "And you call yourself an investigator."

"_Crime_ _scene_ investigator," Warrick clarified. "I get paid to notice evidence of crimes, not evidence of my friends' personal lives."

"Fair enough," Nick said with a grin. "We're going to have to give her a hard time about this, you know. She can't keep a secret like this from us and expect us to just to leave it alone."

"Who's keeping secrets?" Greg asked as he walked into the locker room.

Nick and Warrick exchanged a glance.

"Sara," Nick said. "She's been dating an EMT, but she didn't tell any of us."

Greg's eyes grew round. "How did you find out?"

"It came out in court," Nick said. "Tom Haviland's defense did a little digging into everyone's lives. They used Sara's relationship with Hank to say that he was repositioning evidence to where she wanted it."

Greg frowned. "That's just stupid."

"Yeah, we all think so," Warrick agreed.

"But, how did they find out about Sara and Hank?" Greg asked. "I mean, no one …"

He trailed off as Nick and Warrick looked at him in shock.

"You _knew_?" they exclaimed in unison.

Greg's face slowly turned red. "Well, I may have heard …"

"Greg, we want the truth," Nick said. "How did you find out about Sara and Hank, and why on earth didn't you tell us?"

Greg sighed. "I have a friend who's an EMT. He told me that Hank had mentioned going out with Sara. I confronted her about it, and she admitted that they're dating. She also swore me to secrecy, so if you could avoid telling her that I said anything to you, I'd appreciate it." He grinned. "I'm not entirely sure she was kidding when she said she'd kill me and hide the body where no one would ever find it."

"It doesn't matter much anymore," Warrick said while Nick laughed at Sara's threats. He repeated what Sara had said to him only a few hours earlier, "Everyone's secrets are on the table now."

"True," Nick laughed. "You won't believe what else that defense attorney said –"

"She asked me about my gambling problem," Warrick said loudly, cutting him off.

Nick looked at Warrick in surprise, but quickly went along with him. "It was mean," he said. "There's nothing illegal about gambling in Las Vegas."

"It just makes me look bad," Warrick said.

"What did she find out about you, Nick?" Greg asked.

"That I'm careless," Nick said. "I forgot to put case identifiers on my photos."

Greg shook his head just as he was paged back to the DNA lab. He sighed.

"You know, after working for something like a million hours straight, you'd think I'd be allowed a little break."

"No rest for the weary," Nick grinned.

"Well, I'll be in my lab. See you guys later."

Greg left, and Nick turned to Warrick.

"Why did you cut me off?"

"You were going to tell him what she said about Sara and Grissom, weren't you?"

Nick nodded. "So?"

"So, I don't think you should. I don't think it's fair to Sara to have that out in the open."

"It sort of is out in the open, Warrick. Marjorie Wescott made sure of that."

Warrick shook his head. "That doesn't mean we have to repeat it. If Greg finds out because Sara tells him, fine. But, I don't want him to find out because we were just being mean to her in hopes of getting a laugh from Greg."

Nick nodded, thoroughly abashed. "You're right. I didn't think of it that way." He paused. "Wait. Warrick … Grissom does know what went down in court, doesn't he?"

Warrick shrugged. "How could he? He wasn't there during Sara's testimony."

"So … wait. Does he have any idea that she …?"

"I doubt it," Warrick said. "You know Grissom. He's completely oblivious to the human element. And, there's no way that Sara would make a non-subtle move on him."

Nick exhaled slowly. "Oh, man."

"Look, if you want my opinion, I'd say it's all ancient history. She's with Hank now, and she seems happy. There is no reason for Griss to know any of it."

"You're right," Nick agreed. "It doesn't need to go any further than it already has."

Warrick nodded. "Sara's never been one to tell our secrets unless Grissom told her to," he said. "We owe her the same courtesy."

* * *

Sara had never been so glad to have a night off in her life. She went straight home after having dinner with the team, and took a long, relaxing shower. She didn't bother to dry her hair afterward; she pulled it back into a damp ponytail and threw on her most comfortable yoga pants and tank top. She had just turned on the television when someone knocked on her door.

Frowning slightly, she got up from the couch, and crossed to open the door. Hank stood there, smiling at her, holding a single rose.

"Hi," he said softly.

"Hi," she replied a bit blankly. She opened the door wider. "Come in."

He smiled wider and entered her apartment, offering her the rose. "I heard that you had a rough day."

Sara's eyes widened as she accepted the flower. "Who told you that?"

"Everyone's been talking about how the defense in that Tom Haviland case was planning to tear CSI apart. How did it go?"

Sara sighed as she put the rose in a vase, setting it down next to her gerber daisy plant. "It was just this side of horrific."

Hank came up behind her, gently massaging her shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Sara bit her lip. There was no way she was going to tell him what that woman had said about her and Grissom. "Well, we've been outed," she said at last.

"What?"

"The defense suggested that my relationship with you changed how I processed the scene."

"That doesn't make sense."

"I know," Sara said, her head rolling forward as he massaged her neck. "I tried to play it off. I guess it worked – the movie star will have to stand trial."

"Good." Hank's hands moved lower again, to shoulder blades. "Did they name names?"

"You mean your name? Yes."

Hank's fingers stilled for a moment, then resumed their massage. "So, everyone knows?"

"Yeah." She smiled. "I haven't had a chance to talk to the team yet, but I'm pretty sure they're going to be upset that I didn't tell them sooner."

Hank smiled. "I sort of liked the mystery."

"Me, too," Sara sighed. "You're really good at this, you know. You could be a masseuse."

"I think I'm happy as an EMT," he smiled. "You know, this would be more effective if you were lying down."

Sara smiled and turned around, grabbing his hand. "Well, I know a good place to do that."

Hank grinned as he followed her to the bedroom.

* * *

"Are you working next Tuesday?" Hank asked, toying with a lock of Sara's hair that had fallen on his bare shoulder.

"No," she said. "You?"

"Nope. I was thinking … there's this vineyard that I'd like to take you to. Do you like wine?"

"Who doesn't like wine?"

He smiled. "Would you like to go on Tuesday?"

Sara smiled back at him. "I'd love to."

* * *

Sara had not been to a vineyard in years. A native of California, she was no stranger to vineyards and wine tastings. Hank was impressed by her knowledge.

"You can tell the difference between these?" he asked, experimentally tasting two different red wines.

"You can't?" she asked in surprise. "This one has an oaky taste to it – it shows how it was matured."

The tour guide smiled at Sara. "That's right." He looked at Hank. "I think this young lady could teach you a thing or two about wine."

Hank smiled. "She's a crime scene investigator. She gets paid to notice subtle differences."

"True enough," Sara laughed. "Here, try this one. Can you taste how much lighter it is?"

"I guess …" Hank said uncertainly.

Sara laughed again. "I have a lot to teach you."

She had just reached for another glass when her pager started to vibrate. She looked down at it and groaned.

"Work?" Hank asked.

"I can't have a single day off with this man," she sighed. "Yeah, I have to go in. We've got multiple homicides."

Hank nodded. "Okay. I'll drive you back home."

She sighed. "I'm sorry, Hank. You had this lovely day planned …"

"It's all right," he said, squeezing her hand. "We've had a lovely day, don't you think?"

Sara nodded, coaxing forth a smile. "I'm sorry Grissom is always ruining things for us."

Hank shook his head. "I'm glad that you're such a good CSI that he depends on you so much."

She smiled a genuine smile. "That's a far nicer way to look at it."

"Come on," Hank said, pulling her to her feet. "It'll be over an hour before we get back to Vegas."

"Oh, well. It's my day off. He'll just have to wait."

* * *

As it turned out, Grissom was not pleased to be kept waiting. He was almost harsh as he assigned Sara to work solo on a murder at a high school. Sara felt very stung and severely punished as she left.

"Gil, what's going on?" Catherine asked when she finally had time to speak with him.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Why did you send Sara out alone?"

"I need everyone else here," Grissom replied.

Catherine shook her head in disbelief. "That's not true. We could run this with only three CSIs. Any one of us could have gone with Sara. Are you punishing her for something?"

"No."

Catherine looked at him closely. "You're not … What has she done?"

"Nothing." He paused. "She needs to be here when she's paged."

"Grissom, it's her day off!" Catherine exclaimed. "You were the one who was worried that she was working too hard! You were the one who made me go talk to her about it. And, now, when she's not hanging around the lab on her day off, you get upset. What is the matter with you?"

"Nothing," Grissom said stiffly. "I just … I need my team to be there when I need them."

"You – you're mad about Hank, aren't you?" Catherine asked with dawning understanding.

"Why would I be mad about Hank?"

"You don't want her involved with another man," Catherine said, still with an air of revelation.

"You're being ridiculous," Grissom said, avoiding her eyes.

"No, I'm being observant," Catherine shot back. She lowered her voice. "Listen, Gil, you can't have it both ways. You've always said that she didn't mean anything to you – that she wasn't anything more than a colleague or a friend. If that's how it is, that's great. More than great. But, you can't expect her to remain celibate. If you don't want to have a romantic relationship with her, that's fine, but you can't stop her from having one with someone else."

Grissom lowered his eyes for a moment, then looked back up at her. "You're right. I can't control Sara's private life."

"And …?"

He sighed. "What more do you want from me, Catherine?"

"Be nice to Sara," she said. "We've been over this before. You know enough not to make her so upset that she'll quit, don't you?"

"Yes," he sighed.

"You promise to play nice?"

He couldn't help but smile at her word choice. "I promise."

* * *

Catherine's lecture got through to Grissom; he was far kinder, more his old self with Sara from that point on. Sara was relieved that he wasn't purposely trying to make her life difficult. She chalked his attitude up to having a stressful day.

Going to work became fun again, with the Tom Haviland case behind them and Grissom's friendly attitude back. Sara looked forward to seeing her friends each day.

"Sara! We need to talk."

Sara paused on her way out of the locker room. "What's up, guys?"

"Is anyone in the locker room?" Nick asked.

"No, it was just me. Why?"

"Come on," Warrick said, taking her arm to lead her back into the locker room.

"Seriously, what's going on?" Sara asked as Warrick steered to her the empty locker room.

"Sara, how long have you been dating Hank?" Nick asked, folding his arms over his chest.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked warily.

"We're worried about you," Warrick said. "We can't believe you didn't tell us what was going on between you two!"

Sara laughed. "You call yourselves investigators. You should have guessed it."

"I don't think you left us quite enough evidence," Nick smiled. "Listen, we're just trying to make sure that you're happy."

Sara's face relaxed into a smile. "Yes, I'm happy."

"He's good to you?" Warrick asked.

"Very."

"All the time? He doesn't do anything that upsets you?" Nick asked.

"Oh, come on, now, guys. Everyone gets upset _sometimes_."

"Fair enough. But, for the most part …"

"Yes," Sara said firmly. "I'm very happy with Hank, and he is perfectly wonderful to me. Are you happy?"

Nick smiled. "We're very happy for you, darlin'. As long as you're happy, we're happy."

"We just wanted to make sure that everything is good with you and Hank," Warrick added. "Because, if he ever does anything to hurt you …"

"He'll have us to answer to," Nick finished.

Sara stared at them in shock. In all her life, she had never had anyone who wanted to protect her the way these two men did. Nick had been right – she had always been lacking a "big brother" in her life. As much as she had always teased that they tried to fill that role, she was realizing for the first time that they truly _did_ fill that role– and that they always would. Tears filled her eyes.

"Aw, Sara, don't cry," Nick said, seeing what was coming.

"I'm sorry," Sara said, wiping at her eyes. "You were right, Nicky – I've always needed a big brother."

Nick smiled and folded her into a hug. "You've got one, darlin'."

"Two," Warrick said, taking his turn to hug her.

She laughed, and did her best to stop crying. "You guys are great."

"So are you," Warrick smiled.

"There you are!"

They all looked up to see Grissom standing in the doorway. "Warrick, Sara, you're coming with me. We have a foam party to attend."

Warrick and Sara looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

"Who else is going to be there?" Warrick asked.

"Brass and a dead guy. Come on, let's go."

* * *

"Okay, what was a non-diabetic doing with insulin in his system?" Warrick asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"That's what we need to find out," Grissom replied.

"Someone stabbed him with a syringe full of insulin?" Sara asked, dipping a carrot stick in ranch dressing.

"Not exactly," Grissom said, taking a sip of his coffee. "Our killer used a high pressure injector."

"Oh, that's just a whole new level of weird," Warrick said. "Who would even think to kill a guy like that?"

"That's what we need to find out," Grissom replied.

The ringing of a cell phone interrupted their conversation. They all instinctively reached for their phones, but Grissom waved them off.

"Mine," he said, flipping the phone open. "Grissom." He was silent for a moment. "Wait – Cath, slow down. What?" His eyes grew round as he listened. "What?" he practically yelled, jumping to his feet. "Is she okay?"

"Gotta be something with Linds," Warrick said, looking at Sara fearfully.

Sara nodded, fear creeping into her veins. She didn't know what Catherine would do if something happened to her little girl.

"Okay. … Okay. … Thank God. … Right. … Okay, I'll send someone over there as soon as I can." He paused. "No, Cath, I can't. You know that. … It'll be fine. We'll talk soon. … Right. Bye."

He snapped his phone shut. Warrick and Sara were both staring at him, their lunches forgotten on the table. Grissom took a deep breath.

"There's been an accident."

"Oh, God," Warrick moaned, running his hands over his face. "Lindsey?"

"She's okay," Grissom said, obviously relieved. "The car she was riding in went off the road and into a storm drain."

"Oh, man," Warrick said. "With the amount of rain we've had, it must have been like a river."

"Exactly. She called Catherine, who, thank God, got her out. But, obviously, she's pretty shaken up."

"Wait," Sara said. "Lindsey wasn't driving that car. Who was?"

"She was with Eddie for the evening," Grissom replied.

"So, where is he? How did she get there, all alone?

Grissom looked at her for a moment. "That's what you're going to find out."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Nick's going to take the case that he and Catherine were working, and Warrick will stay on this case with me."

"You're not taking Lindsey's case?" Sara asked in surprise.

Grissom shook his head. "Catherine, Lindsey and I go back too many years. I'd be too emotionally involved. I can't do it. Catherine knows that, and she understands it. You take it."

"Are you sure that you want me to do this?" Sara asked evenly.

Grissom nodded, looking straight into her wide eyes. "If it were my little girl, I'd want you investigating it."

* * *

In the days that followed, Sara found herself thinking more than once that it would have been easier to stay on Grissom's foam party case. Catherine was very reluctant to let her do her job, suggesting more than once that she wasn't doing it right.

The case became even more complex when Eddie's body was found near the site of the crash. Catherine went from terrified mother to terrified mother and grieving ex-wife. Sara could barely understand the complexity of the emotions that Catherine was experiencing, but she wished that she would experience them at home, far away from the crime lab. It was truly making her life difficult.

"You're going to be jealous," Nick laughed as he came into the break room, where Sara was going over her notes from an interview with Lindsey.

"Dare I ask why?" she smiled.

"It turns out that the dominatrix is involved in our investigation," he said.

Sara's eyebrows shot up. Since she had left the case, Nick and Catherine's case had merged with Warrick and Grissom's, meaning that everyone but her was working toward the same goal.

"Dominatrix?"

"Lady Heather," Nick clarified. "Remember, she was involved in a case Grissom, Catherine and I worked last year?"

"Oh, yeah," Sara said. She smiled. "Warrick and I always did think that was a little unfair that we didn't get to take a walk on the wild side with you guys."

"Jealous?" Nick teased. "You're missing out again."

"Are you going to the house?"

He made a face. "I've been there. No need to see it again."

"Who's going?"

"Brass and Grissom."

"Sounds like a party," Sara said, turning back to her notes.

"I can't believe it! You were so upset the last time you didn't get to go to Lady Heather's!"

Sara sighed. "I'd be jealous if I wasn't so busy. In a few weeks, I'll probably wish that I could have gone to check it out."

"Well, if you're very good, maybe Grissom will tell you all about it."

Sara laughed. "Yeah, that'll happen."

* * *

Grissom couldn't help feeling a bit excited as he and Brass waited in Lady Heather's foyer for her to make an appearance. The detective gave him an appraising look.

"She's a suspect in a murder investigation," he said.

"I'm aware of that, Jim."

"Just making sure."

Despite his words, Grissom felt the breath leave his body when Lady Heather descended the staircase in her home. She was just as beautiful, just as entrancing, as the last time he had seen her. She always maintained an emotionless exterior that rivaled even Grissom's, but she did seem pleased to see him again, too.

She explained the work that their two victims had done for her, and Brass ushered Grissom back out the door. He shook his head as they drove away.

"She's a suspect in a murder investigation," he said again. "Long, brown hair – just like the one you found in the first vic's hotel room – and access to the victims … Gil, you've got to forget about anything other than that."

"I know, Jim."

Brass glanced at him. "Yeah, you keep saying that, but I'm having a hard time believing it."

Grissom allowed himself a smile. "I know what I'm doing."

"Usually, that's a comforting thought, but this time …"

"I would never do anything to jeopardize the lab."

"That I'm sure of," Brass said. "Just make sure that you don't forget."

* * *

Within days, Grissom found himself back at Lady Heather's house to ask her a few more questions. This time, he went alone.

She led him though the house as they talked, going up several flights of stairs. He repeated information she had given him before about dominance and submissiveness, commenting that, while in her dominion, the submissive partner held all the power. He or she was the one who could, at any time, say "stop."

"Very good, Mr. Grissom," she said, impressed that he had remembered the fact about her business.

"I'm just repeating what I heard," he said.

"You're a good listener."

He shrugged. "Part of the job."

She stepped closer to him. "So, this is work?"

"Yes," he said slowly, "but I value your insight."

Lady Heather allowed herself a small smile. "I'm flattered. But, you already seem to know the answers to your questions." She stepped even closer. "You keep me in proximity when I walk away, and when I'm close, you watch my lips." She finally stopped mere inches from him, and looked directly into his eyes, again displaying her uncanny ability to read him. "Are you losing your hearing?"

He looked down at her, his lips curving slightly upward. "I'm losing my balance."

"Your sense of self?" she whispered.

"No," he said firmly, "I know who I am."

"Do you?" she asked almost playfully, yet seductively.

"Yes," he said, smiling slightly again, "I do."

He reached up to touch her cheek, letting his hand slide down against her hair as her eyes closed. He moved his hand, and her eyes opened again, staring into his as he cupped her face with both hands.

"You can always say 'stop,'" he whispered.

She looked up at him with lust-filled eyes. "So can you," she replied.

He shook his head. "Not if I don't want to say it."

She smiled slightly. "Good. I don't want to hear it."

He leaned down and captured her lips with his, feeling all his emotion rush to the surface, thinking that he had waited an entire year to feel her lips against his. His hands slid down from her face to her shoulders, then down further, finally coming to rest on her waist. She reached up slowly, unzipping his jacket and letting her hands slide under it.

Grissom's lips finally left hers and trailed down her chin to her neck. She leaned her head to the side and let the fingers of one hand tangle in his hair. He pulled away and looked deeply into her eyes.

"Are you saying 'stop?'" she asked.

"No," he whispered, his voice low and husky.

She smiled and took his hand. "Come."

She led him down the hall into her bedroom, closing the door behind them. He pulled his jacket off, and tossed it onto a chair near the door.

"Shall we play out your fantasy?" she whispered.

He smiled. "I've never been one for theatrics in this part of life."

"Come, now," she said, pressing herself tightly against him. "You must have some fantasy that I could help you indulge."

He shook his head. "No."

She smiled, her fingers quickly undoing of the buttons on his shirt. "Well, then, shall I tell you _my_ fantasy?"

"If you'd like."

She smiled, and leaned up to whisper in his ear. "Having you in my bed has been my fantasy since the moment we first met."

Grissom's eyes widened. She smiled.

"Surprised?"

"I've never thought of myself as anyone's fantasy," he admitted.

"You should," she said. "I know you can't have only been mine."

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her again. "Shall we make your fantasy come true?"

She smiled. "Yes."

* * *

Grissom had never had a one-night stand. He hated the awkwardness of waking up the next morning in someone else's bed. It was bad enough when that bed belonged to a girlfriend; he couldn't handle the idea of that of a stranger. So, when he woke up the next morning in Lady Heather's bed, he immediately felt ill at ease.

She was already awake, walking back into the bedroom wearing a bathrobe, with her hair wrapped in a towel. She smiled brightly when she saw him.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning," he replied.

She sat down next to him on the bed. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," he said. "You?"

"Very well," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "If you'd like to shower, the bathroom is just next door."

"Yes, thank you," he said.

He felt strangely exposed as he climbed out of bed. Even after all that had happened the night before, he hated the idea of her watching him walk unclothed across the room. She seemed to sense his discomfort and turned away.

"We'll have tea downstairs when you're ready," she said.

He smiled. "That would be lovely."

* * *

Their tea began well enough. It wasn't until Grissom offered Lady Heather sugar for her tea that things became tense.

"I'm diabetic," she said as a way to refuse the sugar.

Grissom stopped cold. "Type 1?" he asked.

"Mm-hm," she said with a small nod.

"Injection?" Grissom asked.

"Used to mean injections," she said. "I changed to a pressure syringe."

Grissom's mind went a million miles a minute. He felt as though the ground were falling out from under his feet. "Recently?" he asked.

"A few weeks ago," she said. "Oh, it's a fascinating instrument; would you like to see it?"

Grissom looked at her for a moment, feeling that never before in his life had he been so wrong about a person. "Yes, I would," he said.

She nodded.

"But, I'm afraid I'll need a warrant."

It was Lady Heather's turn to be shocked as she watched Grissom call Brass to request a warrant for her medical supplies. She looked up at him in disbelief.

"I think I just heard you say 'stop,'" she said quietly.

Grissom looked down at her. "Yes," he said, "you did."

* * *

"Where are you headed?" Catherine asked as Brass hurried through the halls.

"Lady Heather's."

Catherine couldn't help smiling. "Business or pleasure?"

Brass rolled his eyes. "Grissom just called and said that he needed a warrant for her medical supplies. Apparently, the lady is a diabetic."

"Is Grissom going with you?"

Brass raised an eyebrow. "Grissom is already there."

Catherine's jaw dropped. "He – what?"

Brass shrugged. "I'm just telling you what I know."

"Why is he there?"

Brass raised his eyebrows. "I don't have any definite answers to that question."

Catherine looked at her watch. "It's … Jim, how did he know that she's diabetic?"

"I've given you everything I've got," Brass said. "But, it would appear that Lady Heather is now a very likely suspect in our murder investigation."

Catherine couldn't help laughing. "Oh, man. Poor Grissom. That is a hell of a walk of shame."

* * *

In the end, Lady Heather wasn't the one responsible for the two men's deaths. One of her employees had used her insulin and injector to kill them.

Even so, Grissom knew that his infatuation with Lady Heather had ended. She may have been innocent, but the ease with which he had been willing to suspect her of this terrible crime was very telling – to both of them. The whole experience left him … sad.

He walked through the lab, thinking that he may as well get some case reviews done, when he noticed Sara sitting in the break room alone. She was staring down at her hands in her lap, and looked miserable. He poked his head in the door.

"Are you okay?"

She shrugged. "Catherine's not very pleased with me."

Grissom walked all the way into the room and sat down across from her. He looked at her, silently asking her to continue.

"I had to call it," she said. "I can't get the truth out of either of my suspects, and I don't have a murder weapon to pull it all together. Each is as likely to be guilty as the other." She sighed and ran her hands over her face. "I wish I had something better."

Grissom looked at her for a moment. "Sara, did you do your best?"

She looked up at him. "Of course."

"Is there anything more you could have done?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Then, that's it," he said simply. "Sometimes, there is no answer. That's why we have cold cases."

"I guess."

"Listen," Grissom said, "you have nothing to be upset about. You did your best. Catherine will forgive you. She knows that there's nothing more you could have done, even if she's not ready to admit it yet."

"I hope you're right."

"I've known her for a lot of years. I'm right." He paused. "Sara, I stand by what I said before. If it were my little girl, I'd want you to be the one to handle the case."

She finally smiled. "Thanks, Grissom. That means a lot."

He smiled back. "I trust you."


	16. The Harsh Truth

A/N: Okay, everyone who wanted to see poor Sara with a broken heart – this one's for you!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episode 317, "Crash and Burn."

* * *

_The Harsh Truth_

Sara carefully applied her lipstick and walked out of her bathroom, back into her bedroom. She smiled at the sight of Hank sound asleep in her bed. Hating what she had to do, she crossed to the bed and leaned down to kiss his cheek.

"Hank, wake up," she said quietly.

Hank mumbled something incoherently.

She kissed him again. "Wake up," she said again, this time a bit louder.

Hank struggled to open his eyes and smiled at her. "Hey."

"Hey, sleepyhead," she smiled. "I have to go to work."

"You're leaving?"

"It's what I have to do," she sighed. "It's the job."

"I think you care more about your job than you do about me."

Sara smiled. "You know how my job is."

"Yeah, I do know," Hank replied, finally sitting up. "So, I won't see you for a few days, huh?"

"Well, my mandated lab time is over," Sara said, "so I'm back to field hours. Which means … yeah, it'll be awhile."

Hank smiled and touched her cheek. "I guess I'll have to live with that."

"Did you want to hang around here for awhile, or …?"

"No, I should get home," Hank said, climbing out of bed. "Call me when you get a chance, okay?"

"Seriously, it could be a few days," Sara said. While she was thrilled that the month had finally ended, meaning that she was free to work overtime – which translated into field time – again, she was going to miss the extra time her "regular hours" had given her with Hank. "I'll be back to pulling doubles and triples."

"It's okay," Hank said, pulling on his clothes. He leaned over to kiss her. "Really. We'll talk when you have time again."

Sara nodded, and took his hand as they walked to the door. "Take care."

"You, too," he said. "Put the bad guys away."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Save lives."

They walked out of her apartment and to their cars, each going off in a different direction. Sara sighed as she turned on the radio, letting the sounds of her favorite top forty station soothe her on her way to work.

She loved her job, but sometimes it was murder on her social life.

* * *

During the preceding month, Sara had managed to max herself on overtime in less than three weeks. This meant that she was not allowed any overtime for the last ten days of the month. The best way to avoid getting overtime was to avoid field work; Grissom had not allowed her leave the lab for any cases until the month ended. After spending over a week stuck inside the lab, Sara was thrilled to be back to actual work.

As much as she had loved the normal hours, she had missed going out into the field. As soon as she got in that night, she was sent out again; she and Catherine worked a burglary case together. It wasn't the most involved case Sara had ever worked, but she was grateful for it all the same. She and Catherine managed to solve it in just two days.

"Does it feel good to be back in the field?" Catherine asked as she and Sara labeled their boxes of evidence to be stored.

"It feels _wonderful_," Sara said, grinning at her. "You know, I don't know how people can take desk jobs."

"Yeah, I know," Catherine agreed.

"I wish we could have had a more exciting case, though," Sara said.

Catherine laughed. "Even the little cases are important."

Sara grinned. "No case too small, huh?"

"Exactly."

"Hi, ladies."

They both looked up as Grissom walked into the evidence vault.

"Hi," Catherine smiled.

"Hey, Griss," Sara said cheerfully.

"So, you've wrapped your case?"

"Yes," Catherine answered for both of them. "Sara was just complaining that it wasn't exciting enough."

"Well, I think I can help with the lack of excitement in your life," Grissom said.

Sara and Catherine looked at each other with raised eyebrows and barely-concealed grins.

"Oh?" Sara asked.

"You're both coming with me," Grissom said. "We've got a car into a restaurant to investigate."

"What?" Catherine gasped. "A car went _into_ a restaurant?"

"Yes."

"How could that happen?" Sara asked in shock.

"That's what we need to find out," Grissom said. "According to Brass, we've got multiple fatalities, possibly including the driver." He looked around. "Are you about finished in here?"

"Can you give us fifteen minutes?" Catherine asked.

"Sure," Grissom replied. "I'll meet you at the car."

He left and Sara looked at Catherine.

"That means that he's driving, doesn't it?"

Catherine grinned. "Don't take it personally. He likes to look like a player driving his ladies around town."

They looked at each other with matching sarcastic grins and eye rolls. The idea of Grissom as a player was really just too much.

* * *

Sara had never seen anything like the crime scene that awaited her. As she walked toward the restaurant with Grissom and Catherine – Grissom holding a large umbrella over all three of them to protect them from the rain – she was sure that she couldn't actually be seeing this. It was too bizarre.

However, her career in criminalistics had taught her that nothing was too bizarre to be believed. She walked with her colleagues through what had been a picture window into the destruction of the restaurant dining room, which currently had a very battered Jaguar sitting in the middle of it.

Brass greeted them with the news that two people had died and four were critical; in answer to Catherine's question, they learned that the driver, who was still trapped in her car, was non-responsive. Sara was never sure if Catherine and Grissom kept talking or not after Brass walked away; another voice had reached her ears, invading and taking over her conscious mind. She turned to see Hank behind her, working on a man who was lying on a stretcher. He was wearing street clothes; this clearly had not been his night to work. She crossed to him, immediately concerned.

"Hey, Sara," he greeted her. "Typical Thursday."

Sara's eyes skimmed over the man on the stretcher, focusing on her boyfriend's wrist. "Hank? Your wrist is broken."

Hank looked down at his wrist as though he had never seen it before. "Yeah, it is." He passed his patient off to another EMT – this one in uniform – and stepped back.

"What happened?" Sara asked.

"I was sitting at the table," Hank said, clearly shaken by the entire experience. "Next thing I knew –"

The firefighter who had freed the driver from her car yelled that the woman still had a pulse; Hank brushed past Sara to take care of her. Horror filled Sara as she realized how lucky Hank was – how close she had come to losing him. A broken wrist was not so bad when two of the people who had been sitting at the tables near his had died. She shivered involuntarily as she thought of what could have happened. It was just too horrible to think of losing him.

* * *

Less than an hour after their arrival, Grissom was called to another scene, leaving Sara as the primary at the restaurant. If Catherine was upset by this, she didn't show it. Grissom promised that Warrick would be along to help them, and left to take care of a woman who had died in her home, presumably due to a natural gas leak.

Sara spoke with the restaurant manager, who provided her with a seating chart. After ending her interview, she joined Catherine, who was taking photos of the car.

"I'm sorry. I got wrapped up in …"

Catherine looked at her with a slight nod. "Hank," she finished.

"Yeah," Sara admitted a bit reluctantly. She had never let her personal life interfere with her job before, and was a little annoyed with herself for doing so now. She immediately tried to rectify her mistake by discussing the case with Catherine.

Catherine, for her part, was more than willing to overlook Sara's lack of attention to the case. She was glad to see Sara letting the world see that she was human.

Warrick arrived at the scene, climbing through the remains of the window to join Sara and Catherine.

"Someone couldn't get a good enough table?" he joked.

Sara rolled her eyes and Catherine smiled.

"Look, I've got to follow the driver to the hospital," Sara said. "Call me if you find anything fun."

"Oh, yeah," Warrick said, pulling out his flashlight and shining it into the car, "I'm sure this will be a laugh a minute."

* * *

The woman was still alive when Sara arrived at the hospital, but, according to the police officer outside her room, just barely. Knowing that she'd probably never get a chance to talk to the woman, Sara spoke with her grandson, Corey, who couldn't understand why his grandmother would have even come to Vegas – she hated the city.

As Corey kept speaking, Sara found her attention completely distracted. Hank was at the other end of the hall, kneeling on the floor to talk to a woman in a wheelchair. She interrupted her conversation with Corey to go to Hank, grinning widely at him as the woman in the wheelchair was taken down the hall.

He was completely unwilling to take any of her compliments about his skills as an EMT, suggesting that if he were better at his job, there would not have been any deaths. Sara knew it would be useless to tell him that he had done all he could; Hank hated losing patients.

"Elaine – the girl in the wheelchair – she's one of the lucky ones," he said.

"You were amazing," Sara said, looking up into his eyes.

"Eight years in a rig … first time I've actually been a part of the scene," Hank said. "I can't stop it going through my head."

"Yeah," Sara said, looking down for a moment. She looked back up at him. "You never know when your life's going to change."

"Listen, I – I gotta get out of here," Hank said, touching her hands as he walked past her.

"You need a lift?" Sara offered.

"No, I drove," he said, letting her squeeze his hands for a moment before disentangling himself to walk away.

"Hank?" Sara called.

He turned to face her.

_I love you._ "I'm really glad you're okay," she said.

Hank smiled. "Thanks."

He turned again and walked away, leaving Sara alone in the hospital, wondering why it was so hard for her to say what she felt.

* * *

As anticipated, the driver did not live long. Sara assumed that she had had a heart attack, stroke, or some other age-related problem that had led to the crash. However, Doc Robbins informed her that no such event had occurred. There had to be some forensic, evidence-based reason for the crash. Sara sighed, knowing that she was in for a lot of overtime.

* * *

Catherine created a digital model of the dining room, hoping that it would be helpful. When Sara walked into the layout room, Catherine had input the patrons' names, occupations, photos and other relevant information. Sara was rather impressed as she watched Catherine show off her work.

"Who is Elaine Alcott?" Catherine asked as she brought up a young woman's picture.

"Who?" Sara asked.

"Um … well, she was seated with Hank; I just thought maybe that …" Catherine trailed off, sensing that she might be headed into a bad situation.

"Oh," Sara said, sitting down at the computer to look at the woman's picture again.

Catherine kept talking, but Sara barely heard her. She finally placed Elaine; she was the woman in the wheelchair from the hospital.

"They must be friends; I saw him with her at the hospital," Sara said at last.

"Okay," Catherine said.

She continued listing off details about the patrons until Warrick walked in with the information he had gleaned from a conversation with the DMV. Sara left to inspect the car, leaving Warrick and Catherine in the layout room.

As she went over every inch of the car, noting that it was in perfect working order, Sara couldn't get Elaine Alcott out of her head. She was willing to admit that the woman must be a friend of Hank's, but she could not understand why he had never mentioned her. If they were good enough friends to go out for dinner together, they should have been good enough friends for his girlfriend to know about her.

* * *

Everything about their case taught them that the driver had intentionally driven her car into the building. The question that remained was why.

Sara and Catherine went back to the digital model of the dining room, thinking that perhaps a patron had been the target of the driver's rage. As they went through the tables, the one thing that was common to three of the five people seated in the windows was that they worked for Sillmont Healthcare – and the only survivor of those three was Elaine Alcott.

"Maybe I should go talk to her," Sara suggested.

"Yeah," Catherine said, knowing deep in her heart that Sara would discover something completely unrelated to their case, "maybe you should."

* * *

Sara's initial impression was that Elaine was a very nice person. She was willing to help, at any rate, which was not an entirely common thing in Sara's line of work. Sara sat down with her on her couch as Elaine searched the list of policy holders that she oversaw, looking for the driver's name. While Elaine looked through the files on her computer, Sara's eyes fell on a picture on her coffee table. It showed Elaine on a beach, leaning up against Hank.

Sara felt her head begin to spin as she picked up the framed photo. Elaine smiled as she looked at what had caught Sara's attention.

"My boyfriend," she said. "I saved up my miles and took him to Hawaii last year. He's going to take me to Tahiti in a few weeks. I can't wait."

Sara put the picture back down, focusing on not screaming, or crying, or vomiting. All she could think was that she had to get out of that house – fast.

She gave Elaine some excuse, told her that she needed to get back to the lab, and handed her a business card, telling her to call if she found any further information. With that handled, she nearly ran back to her car. Once safely inside, she took several breaths to calm herself down.

_Maybe it wasn't Hank_. Sara dismissed the absurd thought as soon as it crossed her mind. The man in the picture was Hank. It was all too obvious what had happened …

She made it back to the lab, managing to get her emotions under control by sheer force of will. She found her way into the layout room, where Catherine was surrounded by files pertaining to their case. She was thankful that it was just Catherine in the room. She knew that Catherine would understand, and that she wouldn't force Sara to talk if she didn't want to – and she also knew that once this story got out, Warrick and Nick would pressure her to let them kill Hank.

"Hey," Sara said as she walked in.

"Hey," Catherine replied. She watched as Sara sat down silently. "So? How did it go with Elaine Alcott?"

"She didn't have anything to add to the investigation," Sara said without looking at Catherine.

Brass walked in with the driver's phone records, and, in a moment, everything made sense. Sara called the one Vegas number listed, and discovered that Sillmont Healthcare had an address almost identical to that of the restaurant. The woman wasn't targeting the restaurant or the people sitting in it; she had gotten her directions mixed up. She had intended to drive through the insurance building.

* * *

Sara and Catherine found themselves in the office of the director of the insurance company. Elaine was also there, completely distracting Sara. Catherine, sensing what was going on, handled a considerable amount of the interview.

Sara couldn't stop staring at Elaine. It was like looking a prettier version of herself. Elaine, too, had dark hair – thicker and darker than Sara's. She, too, had brown eyes – a prettier shape and color than Sara's. Her teeth were completely straight when she smiled – she didn't have an unsightly gap like Sara did between the two front ones. Sara wanted to cry as the last thought occurred to her – Elaine worked an office job. Her hours were set, she wore cute skirts and blouses to work, and she never came home smelling like a decomposing body. It was easy to see why Hank would choose her over Sara.

Sara forced her thoughts away from Hank and back to the woman who had been so angry at her health insurance provider that she had been willing to drive herself into a building. The victim had been diagnosed with cancer; the insurance company had left her doctor's request for treatment "pending." She had no way of getting them to either approve or deny her claim. Her only way out, in her mind, was to show them her fury. The director stated the absolute truth when he claimed his company's lack of responsibility or liability in the elderly woman's actions.

"For what it's worth," Catherine said, drawing the interview to a close, "that makes me sick."

* * *

Sara and Catherine wound up at the police department to question Corey, the driver's grandson, to make sure he had no knowledge of his grandmother's intended actions. He was obviously quite shocked by what she had done; they both left the interrogation room feeling sorry for him. They walked out into the hall, ready to go back to the lab and file their final report, when they saw Hank waiting for them. Catherine gave Sara an understanding look.

"I'll meet you at the car."

Sara continued on alone to meet Hank halfway down the hall.

"I called the lab; they said you were here," he said. He looked at her for a moment as though waiting for her to start raging against him. "I heard you met Elaine," he finally said.

"Yeah, she's really something," Sara said.

Hank just stared at her, wondering when she would start screaming. The Sara he knew would certainly fly into an emotional rage over an injustice like this.

"I didn't tell her about us, if that's what you're wondering," she said.

Hank looked down for a moment. "I'm really sorry, Sara."

"Yeah, me, too," she replied.

"I don't know what else to say," Hank said.

Sara looked at him for a moment, wondering why she had wasted her time on a man who couldn't even find the words to _try_ to explain or defend his actions. "I'll see you around," she said.

It was done.

She brushed past him and walked straight outside without looking back. She could see Catherine already in the driver's seat of the SUV they had driven over, waiting for her. Sara opened the passenger side door and climbed in, looking straight ahead.

Catherine just looked at her for a moment. "You got plans?" she asked.

"Nope," Sara said.

"You wanna get a beer?"

Sara finally turned to look at her. The concerned, compassionate look on Catherine's face brought tears to her eyes. "Drive," she said.

Catherine smiled and backed out of the parking space.

* * *

Catherine drove them to a favorite bar of the CSIs. When the team went out for a drink together, this was where they inevitably ended up. They sat down together at a table and ordered the promised beer.

"So," Catherine said, taking a sip of her drink, "do you want to talk about it?"

Sara sighed. "Elaine is his girlfriend."

Catherine nodded. "I had a feeling."

Sara's eyes grew to the size of saucers. "When did you get this feeling?" she asked a bit angrily.

"When you didn't know who she was on the restaurant seating chart," Catherine replied. "If he's having dinner with a woman you don't know, chances are, he's cheating on you."

Sara shook her head. "He wasn't cheating _on_ me, Cath, he was cheating _with_ me."

It was Catherine's turn to look across the table with huge eyes. "What?"

Sara lowered her eyes for a minute, then looked back up at Catherine. "She has a picture of them in Hawaii on her coffee table. She said that he's taking her to Tahiti in a few weeks. That is not what someone does with his mistress. That's what he does with his girlfriend."

"Sara, you didn't know –"

"He didn't treat me like a girlfriend," Sara said angrily, cutting Catherine off. "He didn't take me on trips. He didn't want to take me out to do the Vegas party scene. Warrick told me ages ago that I was missing out on something there. Why didn't I see it then? It's like he was trying to hide me – to hide our relationship. What he did with me – that's cheating. I'm the _other_ _woman_." She spat the last two words out as if they had a bad taste.

"Sara, you didn't know," Catherine said again. "You don't count as the 'other woman' if you don't know that there's another woman in the picture. You can't blame yourself."

"Shouldn't I have known?" Sara asked. "I'm a crime scene investigator! Why couldn't I see what was going on?"

Catherine sighed. "Sara … I had no idea when Eddie was cheating on me." She gave a hollow laugh. "Grissom knew before I did." She paused. "And, I believe, so did you."

Sara's eyes widened. "Griss told you that he told me?"

"Yeah."

"Cath, I am so, so sorry."

Catherine waved her hand as if to brush it off. "It doesn't really matter much now, does it? My point is, Sara, that we can't possibly notice everything. With the hours that we keep, there is no way we can possibly know what's going on at home all the time. We just have to trust that our men are being faithful."

"I did trust Hank," Sara sighed. "And, I'm sure that Elaine trusts him, too."

"Some men aren't worthy of our trust," Catherine said wisely.

Sara sighed. "Men suck."

"Most definitely," Catherine smiled, chinking her bottle against Sara's.

"Well, I'm swearing off them for awhile."

Catherine smiled again. "Sure you are."

Sara made a face at her. "You don't believe me?"

"You don't want to make poor little Greg one very happy lab tech?" Catherine teased.

"As much as I hate to break his heart, no."

"Oh, well. I guess he'll just have to come to terms with that."

"He will," Sara acknowledged. "And, please don't even mention Nick and Warrick – they're like brothers."

Catherine smiled and nodded. She noticed that Sara didn't mention Grissom's name, but elected not to comment. "Look, I've never been a big believer in dating the people in your office," she said. "It just always seems like a bad idea."

"I suppose," Sara agreed noncommittally. "Hank is pretty close to a coworker, don't you think?"

"Definitely," Catherine said. "That's why it didn't work."

"No, it didn't work because he decided that he needed to have two girlfriends instead of one."

"Greedy bastard."

Sara finally smiled. "He is, isn't he?"

"If you ask me, Elaine's the one with the problem. Hank was with you for – what was it? A year?"

"Yeah."

"An entire year, and she never realized what was going on. And, you know he's not going to stop acting like that. He'll find someone else, and do the same thing all over again. That poor girl will stay with him forever, never knowing that he's being anything but faithful."

Sara sighed. "She's prettier than me," she said. "She doesn't smell like dead bodies."

"Sara, you listen to me," Catherine said fiercely. "She is not better than you. You are a wonderful, intelligent, passionate, driven, beautiful woman, and you deserve far better than a man who will cheat on you with the next pretty girl who walks by. Do you understand me?"

Sara smiled. "Yes, Mom."

Catherine's face relaxed into a smile. "Sorry about that ending. But, Sara, I mean it. You are far too good for someone like Hank."

"Thanks, Cath," Sara said. "For everything."

Catherine smiled. "That's what friends are for."

* * *

"No way. _No way_. Hank was cheating on Sara?"

"Yeah, that's what I heard."

Warrick raised his eyebrows. "State your source."

"Sanders," Nick replied.

"Oh, man, we're sinking to getting the gossip from Greg?"

"He's the source when it comes to this sort of stuff," Nick said. "Remember, he knew that Sara was dating Hank long before we did."

"True," Warrick said. "Seriously, though – Hank cheated on her?"

"Yeah," Nick said. "According to Greg, Hank never broke up with his old girlfriend, but Sara didn't know it. He sort of made her the other woman without telling her that that was how it was happening."

"Oh, that rat bastard!" Warrick exclaimed. "He can't do stuff like that to our Sara."

"I agree," Nick said. "We did promise Sara that we'd take care of him if he hurt her. Should we get to work on that?"

"We could," Warrick mused. "We need to do something. Something painful."

"Poor Sara," Nick said. "She was really into Hank."

"Yeah, she was," Warrick agreed. "I still can't believe that he cheated on her!"

"Hello, gentlemen."

Nick and Warrick both looked up as Grissom walked into the break room.

"Hey, Griss," Warrick said. "We didn't see you standing there. How much did you hear?"

"Enough to tell you that doing something painful to another person is a good way to lose your jobs," Grissom said grimly.

"Hey, Grissom, look, Sara didn't tell us about this thing with Hank cheating on her, so we don't know it for a fact … Greg told us …"

Grissom held up his hand to stop Nick's flow of words. "Let's leave the personal lives at home, shall we?"

"Right," the two younger men agreed.

"Good," Grissom said. "Now, let's get to work."

He had to get to work. He knew that if he wasn't working, he'd be looking for Hank Pettigrew himself – and he'd be looking to do far more than "something painful."

Nick and Warrick were right. No one treated his Sara like that.

No one.


	17. Facing Reality

A/N: I'm exceptionally sad to have to give you this news, but, as a teacher, my summer is drawing to a close. Tomorrow I'm back to work, which means that my updates will definitely not be as quick as they have been. I'm going to promise an update every weekend, but that's probably the best that I can do.

To everyone else who is tearfully bidding summer good bye, I feel your pain. Students, do your best and be good to your teachers. Teachers, good luck.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are taken from episode 322, "Play with Fire."

* * *

_Facing Reality_

In the end, none of the men on Sara's team did anything to hurt Hank. They settled for being overtly rude to him, barely speaking to him, shooting him dark and dangerous looks, and making sure that Sara never arrived at a scene alone if the paramedics were still there. They did not want Sara to ever be alone with him again.

Sara knew what they were doing, of course, and she was extremely grateful. It wasn't that she needed their protection; she knew that she could handle herself around Hank. She was grateful for the friendship at the root of their actions. She knew that she would never have made it through this without her friends and her work.

Work again became her refuge, the thing she used to bury all the feelings of hurt and betrayal. Even though Catherine had told her that it wasn't her fault, that there was no way she could have known that Hank had another girlfriend, deep in her heart, Sara could not get past the idea that an investigator should have known. She should have known! And so, she threw herself into her work, thinking that if she could just make herself a better CSI, this would never happen to her again.

And so, she worked. The job brought her back into the lab every day full of determination, but the people brought her back full of excitement. She couldn't wait to joke with Warrick, to tease Nick, to laugh with Greg, to chat with Catherine and to talk to Grissom. She couldn't wait to see her friends.

The more time she spent with them, the more she loved them. She loved Warrick's sense of humor, Nick's completely platonic flirtations, Greg's free-spirited style, Catherine's advice and Grissom's … She loved most things about Grissom.

It was as if she had traveled back in time. She felt like the same Master's candidate who had butterflies in her stomach every time she went to one of his classes. She was attracted to him. She always had been, and she always would be. She just hoped that she could hide it well enough that no one else would ever know.

* * *

Sara stumbled into her apartment in complete exhaustion. She had worked a double, and wanted nothing more than to fall into her bed and sleep until her next shift. Apparently, someone else had other plans for her; her cell phone began to ring as soon as she put it down. Groaning, she reached for it.

"Grissom, I really cannot work another minute," she mumbled as she picked up the phone. She flipped it open without even looking at the caller ID. "Sidle."

"Hey, sweetheart."

Sara's heart lifted at the sound of her friend's voice. "Mary!"

Mary giggled. "Who were you expecting?"

"Grissom, if you must know," she said. "I was afraid he'd make me go back into work. I just got home after sixteen hours."

"Oh, Sara. Do you want to sleep? We can talk later."

"No, I'd rather talk to you," Sara said, curling up on the couch. "How are you?"

"Fine," Mary said. "How are you, sweetie?"

Sara sighed. "Getting better, I guess."

"You don't sound very sure."

"I'm … well … I'm confused."

"Confused?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'm getting over the whole thing with Hank. I just … I was an idiot, and I'm not used to feeling like that."

"Sara, you couldn't have known."

"That's what Catherine said, too. She said that she didn't know when her husband was cheating on her. So, I guess … maybe she's right."

"Of course she is."

"It's just hard for me to accept, you know?" Sara said. "I don't like the idea that someone could fool me like that."

"We all have our moments," Mary said. "But, you said it's getting easier?"

"Yeah. I guess the way I look at it, if Catherine can be fooled, anyone can be." Sara hesitated, not sure if she wanted to continue.

"Sara, you're stalling," Mary said. "You're babbling about this because there's something that you desperately want to tell me, but at the same time are afraid to admit, probably to yourself. So, let's just get it over with. What is going on in your head?"

"It's more what's going on in my heart," Sara sighed.

"Always with the set up," Mary giggled. "Spit it out, girl."

"I think I'm falling for Grissom."

Mary exhaled. "And this is news?"

"Be nice," Sara said. "Don't make me hang up on you."

"You won't," Mary said. "I'm the one who knows all your secrets. If you don't tell me, you won't tell anyone … and you obviously want to talk. So, talk."

"It's … it's like I'm back at school. You know how I was then."

"Right," Mary said. "He's intelligent, he's older, he's a mentor, he's a teacher, he's handsome, he's amazing … I remember."

Sara sighed. "Honest, Mary, every time he looks at me, my stomach flips."

"Quite the crush," Mary smiled.

"Quite inappropriate at work."

"Look, I think you should just get this show on the road," Mary said. "Ask him out."

"What?" Sara squeaked.

"Do it," Mary encouraged. "You like him, he likes you –"

"We don't know that for sure," Sara said, cutting her off.

"Okay, yes, we do," Mary said. "He took you out for coffee way back in the day, he let you take him out for dinner in San Francisco, he requested you specifically to investigate his protégé, he asked you to move to Las Vegas to work in his lab permanently, he goes the extra mile to prove your theories, he sent you flowers, he told you that you're beautiful, he treats you like his wife when you two fight over the radio, he practically flipped out when you started dating Hank, he's part of the 'We Hate Hank' club … Sara, he's totally into you."

"You really think so?" It sounded lame, even to her own ears.

"I'm rolling my eyes right now, just so you know," Mary said.

Sara laughed. "Okay, point made."

"So, ask him out. What's the worst that could happen?"

"I could be fired for sexually harassing my supervisor."

"I'm pretty sure they'd give you some sort of sexual harassment seminar before they'd jump right into firing you," Mary said tolerantly. "Seriously, Sara, at least think about it."

"Okay," Sara promised, "I'll think about it."

* * *

And she did. She thought of nothing else for the next week. Every time she saw him – which turned out to be quite often, as they worked several cases together – it was all she could think about. It became almost dangerous. She would look at his hands and imagine what it would feel like to lace her fingers through his. She would look at his cheek and remember how it felt under her hand. She would look at his hair and want to touch it. She would look at his lips and wonder what it would be like to kiss them.

In short, she turned herself into a hormonal teenager. She _hated_ that feeling.

There was only one thing to do. Mary was right. She needed to talk to him about this.

She needed to ask him out on a date.

* * *

Grissom sat at his desk, looking at photos from his latest crime scene without really seeing them. All he could think about was the fact that his ears were once again refusing to work.

He could see people walking past his office, and he knew that they were talking, but he couldn't hear them. He couldn't hear the usual sounds of the machines in the lab, or the hum of the computer on his desk. He blinked, wildly thinking that it would help to bring back his hearing.

"Grissom?"

Breathing a sigh of thanks, he looked up. Catherine was once again standing directly in front of his desk. He had once again failed to hear her enter the room.

_Damn it_.

"Hi, Catherine."

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Fine," he said. "Sit down. We need to talk."

"About what?" she asked, taking a seat across from him.

"Greg."

"What about him?"

Grissom took of his glasses, setting them down on his desk. "He tells me that he'd like to work in the field."

"He wants to become a CSI?" Catherine asked in surprise.

"So he says."

"He does realize …?"

"He realizes a lot," Grissom said. "I didn't give him a definitive answer. I wanted to talk to you first."

Catherine smiled slightly, and Grissom knew that he had made the right choice to include her in this decision.

"Do you think he can do it?" she asked.

"I think that he's very driven," Grissom said. "I think he has the right mind-set to do it. I think that he will fit in very well with the rest of the team."

"I can feel a 'but' in there," Catherine said.

Grissom sighed. "He's not as serious about his work as I'd like a CSI to be."

"I think he's very serious about his work," Catherine said. "I know that he's more … fun-loving … than the rest of the team, but I don't think that means that he takes it less seriously than the rest of us."

Catherine kept talking, but Grissom lost part of what she was saying. His ears again wouldn't cooperate. He concentrated on her lips, trying to keep up with her speech.

"... I think it's worth giving him a chance."

Grissom sighed with relief as his hearing returned. "Okay," he said. "We'll let him have a shot at it. If he can't cut it in the field, he's back into the lab. Nothing lost, nothing gained."

Catherine nodded. "Who's going to train him?"

Grissom smiled. He could almost see the "_Not me_!" in Catherine's eyes. "I think we'll make it a group effort."

"A group effort?" she repeated in surprise.

"Yeah. Brass always made you and me train the new hires, and it always worked out, but … I don't know. I don't want to make any one person feel like he or she is responsible for everything with Greg. He already has a lot of knowledge; we just need to work on helping him attain new skills. I think we can all work together on that, don't you?"

"Of course," Catherine said, clearly relieved that training Greg would not be her responsibility. "When are you going to let him start?"

"We'll let him start with some small, in-house tasks," Grissom said. "Let's wait until we can find a new DNA tech to get him out in the field."

"Right," Catherine agreed. She jumped a bit in her seat and grabbed her vibrating pager. "Well, speak of the devil. Looks like Mr. Sanders needs me in DNA."

"Have fun," Grissom smiled.

Catherine smiled back and made her way out of his office.

When she was gone, Grissom leaned back in his chair. It was time to really start thinking about that surgery. Things were not getting better on their own.

He needed to call his doctor and schedule an appointment. Soon.

* * *

Sara spent several days in a state of mental turmoil after making her big decision. She knew she wanted to ask Grissom out, but the potential repercussions of being his employee weighed on her – not to mention the fear of being rejected.

Finally, she knew that she just had to do it. _Quickly – like ripping off a band aid_, she told herself. She would just wait for the next opportunity.

The next opportunity found her a bit sooner than she would have liked; she was sitting in the break room, about to eat her peanut butter sandwich, when he walked out into the hall. She watched as he spoke to a lab tech, then got up from her seat. Feeling almost spy-like, she followed him down the hall, hanging back to watch as he spoke first to Greg, then to Nick and Archie. He took his messages from a receptionist and walked into his office. Thinking that this was her big chance, Sara swallowed and mentally prepared herself for what she was about to do.

Another tech walked into his office, asking to talk to him. Sara sighed, knowing that the moment was lost. Who knew how long they'd talk? Thinking that she'd wait for the next chance, she looped back around to the break room.

She passed the lab, watching as Greg turned with a frown on his face. She considered going in to say hello when the ground shook beneath her and fire erupted from her right, knocking her off her feet. The DNA lab was exploding.

Sara barely registered what had happened as she lay face down in the middle of the hallway. She lifted her head out of the glass, chemicals and other debris that now littered the floor. She could see Greg lying face down several yards away from her. Fear filled her as she watched him struggle to move. She tried unsuccessfully to get up.

All around her, people were screaming, running, trying to put out the fire. Grissom barreled down the hall, stopping short at the sight of Greg lying nearly unconscious on the floor. He knelt down next to him.

"Are you all right?" he asked, being careful not to touch him. "Greg, can you hear me?"

Greg mumbled something incoherent.

"We need the paramedics!" Grissom yelled, trying to stay calm.

"The paramedics," Sara mumbled. "No."

She would not let Hank see her like this. She would not let him _touch_ her, even if it was to put her on a stretcher. That thought alone propelled her to her feet.

She never really knew how she made it outside. She sort of followed all those around her as if in a daze. By the time she reached the parking lot, it, too was a chaotic mess of people. All those working in the lab had been joined by the paramedics, firefighters and other emergency personnel. Wanting to stay out of their way, Sara moved off to the side.

Her head spun for a moment, and she looked down. The sidewalk was so close, and so inviting. She sat down, staring blankly ahead of her. Her hand hurt, but not enough to bother her. She cradled it in her lap without really thinking about it. She was fine, but Greg … where was Greg?

A stretcher came out of the building, surrounded by several paramedics and Grissom. Sara couldn't see who was on it, but she was sure that it must be Greg. She saw them put him into an ambulance; she took this as a good sign. It wasn't the coroner's van.

She looked back at the pavement ahead of her. A million thoughts and not a single thought seemed to go through her head all at the same time. After a moment, she realized that she had no idea where she was at all.

Grissom appeared in front of her, looking at her with concern. _Grissom_. If Grissom was kneeling in front of her, that meant that she was at the lab.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Uh-huh," she said, nodding slightly. In a flash, it all came back to her. The lab had exploded. Debris had flown everywhere. She had been thrown across the hall, landing face down in a pile of glass.

Grissom looked at her, his eyes going over her body, focusing on the hand that was cradled in her lap. He picked it up, looking at the gash in the side of her palm. "Honey, this doesn't look good."

"It's fine," Sara said. She looked past him for a moment, then back at him. "Clean up's gonna be something. We should get started."

"You need to get stitches," Grissom said gently.

Sara shook her head, looking at him in confusion. "I'm okay," she insisted.

"Could you take care of her hand, please?" Grissom asked the nearest paramedic.

"Sure," the unknown man replied.

Grissom grabbed both of Sara's hands to help her to her feet. She was still shaking her head as the paramedic led her away from him. Grissom held her hand as long as possible, both of them still reaching out to one another for a second as the paramedic took Sara to stitch up her hand.

"Are you all right, miss?" he asked her.

"Really, I'm fine," she said.

The man looked at her sympathetically as he stitched her hand. "Is there someone who can drive you home?"

"My shift isn't over," she said.

"Oh, believe me," he smiled, "it's over."

"I'll take her home."

Sara's eyes fell on the tall man next to her. "Nick," she said.

He smiled. "Hey, darlin'. What did you do to yourself?"

"Grissom said I needed stitches."

"Well, it looks like Grissom was right about that. You let this man stitch you up, and I'll take you home."

"I want to help clean up."

Nick smiled. "Don't you worry about that. The lab will be fine. We need you to rest up so you can finish our case. Grissom and I can't do it without you."

Sara nodded numbly. "Okay. I'll go home."

"Good," Nick said, watching as Sara's hand was bandaged. "I'll take good care of you."

* * *

Nick did take good care of Sara. He drove her home and helped her into her apartment. While she went into her bedroom to change into her pajamas, he went through her cupboards and found Advil. Once she emerged from the bedroom, he gave her two pills and a glass of water.

"You need to rest," he said.

Sara swallowed her pills and drained the glass of water. "I'm tired, Nicky."

"Okay, sweetheart, let's get you into bed," he said. He took her uninjured hand and led her to her bedroom. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

"Tired," she said again, climbing into bed.

"You know where you are? You're not dizzy or disoriented?"

Sara rolled her eyes. "I'm much better now," she said. "How's Greg?"

"They said he's burned pretty badly, but he should be fine," Nick said, tucking the covers around her. He felt relieved; if she was asking about Greg, she was certainly fine. "We'll be able to visit him soon."

"He's going to be in the hospital for awhile?"

"It looks like," Nick said. He looked around her room for a moment, and located her cell phone. He picked it up and put it on her nightstand. "Listen, Sara, I've got to get back to work, but if you need anything – anything at all – just call me. I'll have my cell on all night."

Sara nodded and snuggled under the covers. "Thank you, Nicky." In the back of her mind, she remembered saying something very similar to Hank after he had broken his wrist. "I'll be fine."

Nick smiled and brushed her hair back from her face. "I know you will. You're strong."

She squeezed his hand, smiling up at him. "I think this makes us best friends."

"What does?"

"Well, now you've seen me at my worst."

Nick grinned. "Okay, then, we're best friends."

"Good," Sara said, yawning. "You're a great best friend, Nicky."

"So are you, Sara."

* * *

Sara awoke much later to the ringing of her phone. She fumbled for it, groggily flipping it open.

"Hello?"

"Sara? Are you all right?"

Sara blinked. "Grissom?"

"Yes," he said. "How are you?"

"I'm … okay, I guess."

"How's your hand?"

"It's fine." Truthfully, it was throbbing painfully. The Advil had clearly worn off. She'd have to get more as soon as she hung up the phone.

"Are you sure?"

Sara smiled. It was as if he knew what was going on in her head. "It hurts a bit," she admitted. "But, I'm sure it's going to be fine."

"Listen, Sara, I don't want you coming in to work for a week. We'll put you on paid medical leave."

"Grissom, don't be like that. I'm fine! Once I've had some time to sleep, I'll be completely back to normal. I can come in tomorrow."

"No, Sara, I want you to stay home and rest," Grissom said firmly.

"Not for a whole week," Sara begged. She didn't think she could make it an entire week without working, without seeing her friends … without seeing _him_ … She felt tears pressing against the back of her eyes.

Grissom sighed. "How long can I convince you to stay away?"

"I don't want to stay away at all."

"You need some time off," he said. "I don't want you to hurt yourself more."

"Look, I'll take a day," she said. "I'll spend all of tomorrow resting, and then I'll be back at work the next day."

"That is not good enough," Grissom argued. "I don't want you to play with your health like this, Sara!"

"I'm not playing with my health," she argued.

"Sara, you are too important to lose," he said.

"Grissom –"

Sara obviously kept talking, but Grissom couldn't hear a word of it. Panic seized him. He had never lost hearing while talking on the phone before. When he finally could hear her again, she was repeating his name, obviously concerned that he had hung up on her.

"I'm here," he said.

"Did you hear me? It's either one day or nothing."

"Fine," he said, almost afraid to prolong this conversation any more than necessary. "But, if you come into this lab tomorrow, I will have you bodily removed."

Sara grinned. "I won't. I promise."

"And, Sara, promise me that you'll take it easy," he said in a gentle voice. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I promise," she said again.

"Good," Grissom said. "Listen, if you need anything, call me. I'll be by the phone all night. I can be at your place as soon as you need me."

The tenderness in his voice proved to be her undoing. She felt a tear slide down her cheek.

"Thanks, Griss," she said quietly.

"You're welcome," he smiled, still using the same tender voice. "I'll see you in a couple days, then."

"Right." She paused. "Well, bye, then."

"Sara?"

She stopped just before closing her phone. "Yes?"

Grissom hesitated for a moment. _I'm glad you're not in the hospital with Greg. I'm glad you're okay. I wish I could be there with you right now. _"Take care of yourself."

She smiled. "I will."

"Good night, Sara."

"Good night, Grissom."

* * *

Her late-night conversation with Grissom was enough to convince her that Mary was right. Grissom most certainly did care about her as more than a colleague. This only made her more determined to talk to him, to try to start a relationship with him. She knew that they'd be good together. They just needed a chance.

She finally found the chance to talk to him as she got ready to go home for the day; as usual, she was leaving work over sixteen hours after her shift had started. She, Grissom and Nick had just wrapped their case, and a quick glance at the schedule told her that she and Grissom were both off that night. Her heart hammered in her chest as she walked to his office.

He was sitting on his desk, flipping through his rolodex. She leaned up against his doorframe, hoping that it would keep her from shaking so much that her knees knocked together. She had never been so nervous to ask anyone anything in her life.

"You … got a minute?" she asked.

Grissom looked up at her, pulling a number from the rolodex. "I was just leaving."

"Yeah, the schedule says you're off tonight," Sara commented.

"I am," he agreed.

"Me, too," Sara said quietly, almost hoping that he would suggest dinner so she didn't have to.

"You should be on paid leave," Grissom said, still a bit irritated that she had managed to talk him into letting her come back to work so soon.

"I'm fine," Sara said firmly, with a smile.

They spoke about the case for a minute. Grissom put files into his briefcase, clearly eager to leave for the day. He stepped closer to Sara, stopping when he realized that she was blocking the door. She drew a deep breath. It was now or never.

"Would you like to have dinner with me?"

A thousand thoughts and emotions ran through Grissom in the few seconds' pause between her question and his answer. "No," he said as though it shouldn't even be up for discussion.

"Why not?" she asked, still holding on to her smile. "Let's … let's have dinner. Let's see what happens."

"Sara …" he said slowly. He didn't even know what to say to her. Finally, he decided that honesty would work best. "I don't know what to do about this." His fingers ran back and forth between them in the air, as though trying to identify the unnamed "this" of their relationship.

Sara's hopeful expression dropped. "I do," she said. She paused, her expression becoming harder. "You know, by the time you figure it out, it really could be too late."

She disappeared from his doorway, leaving him alone with his confused thoughts.

* * *

Sara felt her heart breaking into a million pieces as she walked out of the lab. She made it all the way to her car before the first tears began to fall. How could she possibly go back to work tomorrow? And tomorrow? And tomorrow? How could she ever face him again?

* * *

Grissom sighed, watching her walk away. He wanted so much to call her back, to say that he had changed his mind, but he couldn't. There were so many reasons not to go to dinner with her that it was ridiculous. The first, of course, was that he was her supervisor. Office politician he was not, but he knew that dating a member of his team would likely be frowned upon.

He sighed again, knowing that that wasn't the _real_ reason. If he could only be willing, he knew that they could make it work. The _real_ reason was that he was scared.

She was so young, so intelligent, so beautiful, so full of life. She had such passion, such spirit … she knew him, she understood him, and she wanted to be with him. He knew that he could fall in love with her so easily. And he was terrified of the very thought. He was terrified to give up the life that he had created for himself for the life that he could create with her.

He held the other _real_ reason in his hand. He looked down at the paper taken from his rolodex, staring at the number of the surgeon who would try to fix his hearing. He needed to call her today, to schedule his surgery. How could he possibly ask Sara to wait while he dealt with a problem that would haunt him for the rest of his life? How could he ask this young, vibrant, beautiful woman to become the girlfriend of an old man?

He had made the right decision. He was sure of it.


	18. Comfort Levels

A/N: Well, the school year is off to a stressful start! I'm going to stick to my promise of weekly updates for now. I'd love to say that I'll have another chapter posted this weekend, but I'm not sure that I'll have the time to devote to it – my students come back tomorrow, so things will only get crazier for me. Hopefully, I'll be able to increase my updates in the future, once I get settled into a routine again.

This is "bridge" chapter; it's a little shorter than the ones I've posted recently. I'm more excited about the next one – it has a bit more action in it.

Thanks as always for reading and reviewing! To everyone in the US, happy Labor Day!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration, but no dialogue, for this chapter came from episodes 323, "Inside the Box" and 407, "Jackpot."

* * *

_Comfort Levels_

The next day was horrible. Sara spent most of it in indecision over calling in sick. She wanted so much to avoid Grissom, and not being at work seemed like the best way to do so.

But, on balance, she knew that she couldn't do it. For one thing, she had never called in sick. If she did so now, the entire team would assume that she was on death's door, and would probably show up at _her_ door bearing chicken soup.

But, more importantly, she had to do this. She had to go in and face him, because if she didn't do it the first day after he had rejected her, she would never be able to do it. And so, she got ready for work and left on time.

Leaving her house turned out to be easy compared to leaving her car. She parked in her usual space in the lot, turned off the engine and picked up her purse. Then, she sat still, staring at the building. The idea of going in was daunting.

Finally, she took a deep breath and opened the door. She had to do this. She had come this far; she couldn't stop now.

"Hey, Sara!"

Sara turned and saw Nick walking toward her, grinning broadly. "Hi, Nick," she said, slamming her car door shut.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he drew level with her.

"Fine," she said.

"Your hand isn't bothering you?"

"Not that much," she said.

"You're running a bit late today," he commented, as if explaining why he had questioned her about her health.

Sara's eyebrows shot up. "Are we late?" She hadn't thought that she had been sitting in her car _that_ long.

"No, but shift starts in ten minutes. Aren't you always here at least half an hour early?"

Sara visibly relaxed. "Oh. Well, I had some issues getting myself moving today."

Nick smiled. "I'm glad you made it in."

"Me, too," she said, smiling back.

Sara entered the lab with Nick at her side. They stopped in the locker room to drop off their things, then continued on to the break room. Warrick and Catherine were already there, talking about Lindsey's latest fight at school. Sara shook her head.

"I can't believe that sweet little girl would be getting into fights," she said.

Catherine sighed. "Losing her dad has been hard on her."

"Yeah, I know it is," Sara said.

Catherine looked at her sharply. Although Sara didn't continue, her tone alone told Catherine that the younger woman really did understand her daughter's plight.

"Hi, everyone," Grissom said, walking into the break room.

Sara stiffened. This was the moment she had been dreading.

"Catherine, Warrick, you're coming with me to check out a double homicide at the Monaco," Grissom said. "Nick, you and Sara have an accident on the highway."

"The excitement never ends," Nick said, taking the assignment slip from Grissom, who was careful not to look at Sara. "Come on, Sara, let's go."

Sara nodded. "Bye, guys."

"Bye," Catherine said.

"Have fun," Warrick grinned.

Grissom finally made eye contact with Sara. He didn't say anything to her, but the sorrow in his eyes pierced through her.

_It's your own damn fault, _she fumed inwardly._ I gave you a chance. You threw it away. You have no right to look at me like that. _

She gave him a look of cool indifference, and followed Nick out of the building.

* * *

Any awkwardness between Grissom and Sara was granted a reprieve several days later. Sara and Nick sat in the break room, waiting for Grissom to come in and hand them a new assignment. Warrick was still out in the field on his last case, so they weren't surprised that he wasn't there with them. They were, however, surprised by the absence of their other teammate.

"Where's Catherine?" Sara asked.

Nick shrugged. "I'm sure she'll get here."

"Right."

"So, how's your hand?"

"Great," Sara said, flexing it experimentally. "I finally got the stitches out this afternoon."

"That's great!" Nick exclaimed. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Sara smiled.

"Hey, guys," Catherine said as she walked into the break room. "I've got a double homicide just off Strip for you."

Nick and Sara looked at each other in confusion.

"Where's Grissom?" Nick asked.

"He …" Catherine sighed. "Okay, truth?"

Nick and Sara looked at each other for a moment, then back at Catherine.

"Of course."

Catherine sighed again. "He had surgery yesterday."

Nick and Sara's jaws dropped. Horror crossed both their faces.

"Nothing like that!" Catherine exclaimed. "He … he needed some minor surgery on his ears. He'll be back in a few weeks."

Sara's racing heart gradually slowed down. "Thank God," she murmured.

"So, we're on our own till he gets back?" Nick asked.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "No, I'm in charge till he gets back."

"That's what I meant," Nick said.

"That doesn't count as 'on your own,' Nicky."

"Don't take it so personally," Nick laughed. He took the assignment slip from Catherine. "Thanks, Cath. Come on, Sara, let's go."

* * *

Grissom was gone for a month, during which time Catherine took over for him. She did a great job of running the unit, but it wasn't quite the same as having Grissom there.

Sara was pretty much the only one who never mentioned missing Grissom while he was gone. It wasn't that she didn't miss him – every day without seeing him was terrible. But, she was glad that they had the time to recover from her humiliating decision to ask him out to dinner. With each passing day, the memory faded a bit. Although thinking about it still brought a red flush of shame to her cheeks, it became less painful. When he finally did come back, she knew that she would be ready to face him.

"Hi, everyone."

Sara, Nick and Warrick had been sitting in the break room, talking and joking; Grissom's usual greeting brought an end to their conversation and smiles to their faces.

"Welcome back, Grissom!"

He smiled. "Thanks. It's good to be back." He paused and cleared his throat. "There's something I need to tell you all before we start our shift today."

They exchanged glances, completely unsure of where he was going with this.

"Greg Sanders has made it clear to me that he would like to become a CSI."

"Greggo?" Nick laughed. "I never thought he was serious about that."

"He's very serious," Grissom said. "I want to give him a chance to do some fieldwork. If it works out, then he'll join us as a CSI. If not, then he can continue on as a lab tech."

"Who's going to train him?" Warrick asked.

"All of us," Grissom said. "If there's something you're working on in the lab and Greg isn't busy, have him help you. If there's a time when he can go out into the field with you, take him along. He understands quite a bit about what we do; we just need to work on his skills."

"Who's going to run DNA?" Nick asked.

"For now, Greg will pull double duty," Grissom said. "We'll work on finding him a replacement." He glanced around at all of them. "Any other questions?"

They all shook their heads and Grissom nodded.

"Great. For tonight, we've got a homicide," he said. "Catherine and I are going to check it out. The rest of you need to stay here for now; we'll call you if we need help."

Sara, Nick and Warrick all nodded their agreement. Nick and Warrick got up almost immediately; they still needed to finish their report on their last case. Left alone together, Grissom looked at Sara.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Fine," she said. "How are _you_? We've all been worried about you."

"I'm fine," he said calmly. "Better than ever, in fact." He paused. "Your hand is all right?"

"My hand?" Sara asked with a frown. "Oh! The stitches! Yeah, it's fine. Barely even a scar." She extended her hand for him to see.

Grissom leaned forward, taking her hand in his. "They did a great job."

She nodded, fighting the urge to curl her fingers around his. "Yup," she agreed.

Grissom released her hand and smiled at her. "I need to go find Catherine so we can get to the scene. I'll see you later, though."

Sara smiled back. "Right. See you later."

Grissom smiled once more, then left Sara alone in the break room. Sara exhaled slowly, curling her shaking fingers into a fist. Why did he always manage to make her melt? Why couldn't she just get over him?

* * *

"So, she actually gave you her number after a line like that?"

Warrick laughed. "Never underestimate the power of a cheesy line."

"Okay, you're my friend, so I'll be honest," Sara said. "If a guy ever said anything like that to me, I'd walk away."

"Not everyone is as difficult to please as you are," Warrick grinned.

"Why is Sara so difficult to please?" Nick asked as she walked into the break room.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Apparently, because she thinks that 'your daddy must be a thief, because he stole the stars for your eyes' is a cheesy line."

"A cheesy line that _works_," Warrick said.

Nick laughed. "That's some game you've got there, Warrick."

"Pathetic," Sara said, shaking her head.

"What would it take you win you over, Miss Difficult?" Warrick asked.

Sara cocked her head to one side, considering her answer. "Honesty," she said at last.

Warrick laughed. "Good luck finding _that_ in Vegas, girl."

"Hey, did you guys see this?" Nick asked from his spot by the notice board.

"That thing about the car for sale?" Sara asked. "Greg put that up. He's trying to sell the car he bought in college. I think it was old and falling apart when he bought it. Don't even think about it."

"My car is just fine, thank you," Nick grinned. "I was talking about this new position."

"New position?" Warrick asked.

"Yeah. It says they're looking to promote someone to Key CSI."

"Key CSI?" Sara asked, her interest piqued.

"Yeah. It says that anyone interested has to give an application to their supervisor, who will nominate someone from his or her shift for the promotion. The lab director will choose someone from those who have been nominated," Nick explained. He looked thoughtful. "Might be worth it to apply."

"Maybe," Sara agreed, already mentally composing her application letter.

"No way," Warrick said.

Sara and Nick turned to look at him surprise.

"I'm happy where I am," he said. "Remember that night Grissom gave me shift? It was hell. I'll be the low man on the totem pole for the rest of my life, and die perfectly happy. I don't want any more responsibility."

"Don't sell yourself short," Nick said. "You did a great job that night."

Warrick laughed. "I had to call Catherine for help because I was afraid to call Grissom. I don't think that counts as doing a great job."

"You did fine," Sara said. "Besides, you're not the low man on the totem pole."

"Who is, then?"

Sara and Nick exchanged a grin. "Greg," they said together.

Warrick laughed. "Yeah, that's true. I have to say, though, I've loved giving him all the stuff I don't want to do."

"Me, too," Nick said cheerfully. "He's so eager to learn, too."

"Be nice to Greg, guys," Sara laughed. "He really does want to learn, not to be abused."

"You're right," Warrick smiled. "Abusing him is just a fun by-product."

"Hey, guys," Catherine said as she walked into the break room. "I have a new assignment for you."

Sara and Nick exchanged a frown.

"Where's Grissom?" Nick asked.

"On a safari," Catherine said, rolling her eyes.

"Care to elaborate?" Sara asked.

"Someone sent Doc Robbins a severed human head," Catherine said with a sigh. "Grissom's gone to Jackpot to try to find the rest of it."

"Jackpot?" Sara repeated. "Where's that?"

"That's something we'd all like to know," Catherine replied. "I'm Grissom's contact person here, so I need the three of you to go check out this assault case."

"We're on it," Warrick said, taking the slip from her. "See you later, Cath."

"Good luck," she smiled.

* * *

Grissom's jaunt to Jackpot lasted several days. The graveyard shift operated fine under Catherine's control. She helped Grissom with his case from the lab, processing things that he sent her and, once it came out that the severed head belonged to a UNLV student, running to check leads that he uncovered.

The second day that Grissom was gone, Catherine came into the break room for lunch giggling. Sara, Nick, Warrick and Greg looked at her with confused smiles.

"What's funny?" Nick asked.

"Grissom and the villagers of Sleepy Hollow," she giggled.

"Why?" Warrick asked.

"They all think I'm his wife!" she exclaimed, bursting into peals of laughter.

The guys all began to laugh loudly, which covered for the polite, forced laughter of Sara.

"Why do they think that?" Sara asked.

Catherine shrugged and shook her head. "I don't know. But, every time I talk to him, one of them says something about his wife being on the phone. The last time I called, he called me 'dear' when he picked up."

Nick, Warrick and Greg laughed even harder.

"I can't imagine Grissom calling anyone 'dear,'" Warrick said. "Does he have the ability to use terms of endearment?"

Sara flushed slightly, a vague memory of him calling her "honey" sliding around in the back of her mind.

"I didn't think so," Greg said. He shook his head. "I can't even imagine the guy with a girlfriend."

"No way," Nick said.

"Definitely not," Warrick agreed.

Catherine shrugged and smiled. "Well, for now, he's my husband, so all those other ladies had better back off!"

Sara shook her head, forcing a smile. "I thought you had sworn off marriage."

Catherine laughed. "I think Grissom swore off marriage before the fifth grade. We'd make quite the pair, wouldn't we?"

"Poor Lindsey," Greg laughed. "Imagine Grissom as your father!"

"Lindsey loves Grissom," Catherine said at once. "And he just adores her. The two of them are darling together. It's like he becomes this different person." She smiled. "But, there is no chance that he'll ever become her father."

"Aw, Cath, you've broken the hearts of the citizens of Jackpot," Nick grinned. "They already had your wedding planned."

"Yeah," Warrick laughed. "The main course at the reception was going to be squirrel."

They all laughed again, barely noticing that Sara had slipped from the room. She walked quickly down the hall, not stopping until she reached the ladies' room. She went inside and leaned on a sink, staring at herself in the mirror.

"Calm down, Sara," she whispered to herself. "It was all a joke. _Catherine_ was laughing hysterically at the thought."

She sighed, knowing that what really bothered her wasn't the fact that the people of Jackpot thought that Catherine was Grissom's wife. It was the fact that her team found the idea of Grissom having a girlfriend so laughable.

* * *

Grissom's thoughts tumbled around his head in a confused mess as he drove home from Jackpot. The case was solved, no thanks to the locals. He shook his head, remembering exactly why he hated small towns. They were far too close-knit for his taste. He preferred the anonymity that a big city offered.

His confusion, though, had very little to do with the case, and everything to do with comments made by the townspeople. Every phone call he had made to or received from Catherine had been met with the supposition that she was his wife. He had played along with their theory, finding it terribly funny.

Looking back, however, he was shocked by his own casual attitude toward the situation. How was it that he could refer to Catherine as his wife, call her "dear" on the phone, invite her over for dinner or drinks … yet not be able to go out for dinner with Sara when she invited him?

He sighed, knowing and hating the answer. With Catherine, there was no chance that anything would happen. They had been friends far too long, and had established a strong professional relationship. He found her to be an exceptionally attractive woman, but was not the least bit attracted to her.

In short, Catherine was safe. Sara, on the other hand, was not.

Sara had been his friend for years, too, and they, too, had a strong professional relationship. The difference was that with Sara, there was always something more swirling just beneath the surface – something that he was terrified to examine, not truly wanting to know what it was. Something that could jeopardize the life he had and the relationship they currently shared.

A voice in his head – one that sounded remarkably like Catherine's – jumped on that thought. _What relationship_?

Grissom shook his head as the lights of Las Vegas loomed before him. He couldn't let it happen. It was better this way. They were both happier – better off.

Weren't they?


	19. Confession

A/N: I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this chapter. I covered a lot of ground quickly – hopefully, not too quickly. Thoughts?

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue, including Grissom's monologue, are taken from episodes 404, "Invisible Evidence;" 408, "After the Show;" and 412, "Butterflied."

* * *

_Confession_

By the time Grissom came back from Jackpot, Sara had been assigned a new case. She was working solo with Detective Vartann on the death of an elderly man. While an older man dying alone in his home was not unusual, a healthy older man dying with a lethal dose of morphine in his system was. The death had been ruled a homicide, and Sara was working as quickly as she could to piece together the details. They had just finished interrogating their third suspect.

"Well, what do you think?" Vartann asked.

Sara shrugged, watching as their suspect – a neighbor who had been feuding with the older man for years – walked away from the interrogation room. "I've liked him for this from the beginning, but if he has an alibi …"

Vartann nodded. "I'll check it out. See if he really was at work when the old man was poisoned."

"If he was, we're out of suspects." Sara shook her head. "Perfectly healthy people don't just drop dead with extremely high levels of morphine in their systems."

"I know," Vartann replied. "Someone did this to him."

Sara opened her mouth to reply, but stopped when her pager went off. Frowning slightly, she picked it up and read the small display. "I have to get back to CSI," she said. "I'll go over the evidence again, and call you if I find anything."

Vartann nodded. "See you later, Sara."

"Bye," she said, getting up to leave PD.

Sara felt extremely confused as she drove back to CSI. Even though she hadn't seen Grissom since his return from Jackpot, she knew that he knew that she was working this homicide solo. Why would he summon her back for a meeting? It just didn't make sense.

She got out of her car and saw Nick walking into the building. At least she wouldn't be the only one who was accused of holding up the meeting.

"Hey," she said, hurrying to catch up with him as he entered the lab.

"Hi," he smiled, stopping to wait for Sara so they could walk in together. "Did you get Grissom's page, too?"

"Yeah," she said. "I had just finished an interrogation. Why does he want us back for a meeting?"

Nick shrugged. "I'm just glad he caught me before I jumped into the dumpster."

Sara grinned. "I think we're all pretty glad about that, Nicky."

Nick laughed and held the conference room door open for her to pass ahead of him. Catherine was already seated, waiting for everyone else.

"What's going on, Cath?" Sara asked.

"I only have the most limited of details, so I'll let Grissom explain," she said.

Sara frowned. She hated feeling confused.

All too soon, everything became clear. The case against a man who had raped and murdered a young woman was in jeopardy because the police had neglected to get a warrant before asking Warrick to search their suspect's car. Without a warrant, the search violated the suspect's constitutional rights. To uphold those rights, all evidence collected from the car – namely, a knife covered in the victim's blood – had to be excluded. Without the knife, they had nothing to hold the man. Grissom put the entire team to work on the case during the brief, twenty-four hour window the court had allowed to find new evidence that would put the man on trial for this heinous crime.

As much as Sara wanted justice in Warrick's case, she was more than a little put out that it was taking precedence over hers. She had already applied for the Key CSI position; solving her case would only make her a more attractive candidate.

The more involved she got in the case, however, the less she cared about her own homicide. This poor girl had died a horrible death, and Sara wanted to find out what had happened to her. She wanted to help bring about punishment for the man who had done this to her, and peace to her mother and sister.

* * *

Unexpected twists and turns were not new to any of the CSIs, but they were all surprised when their suspect – the man they were working feverishly to prove was guilty – suddenly appeared to be innocent. After a brief meeting to discuss the new turn of events, they split up to once again go over the evidence.

Sara found herself standing in the layout room, staring at the bloody sheets that had been on the bed under the girl's body. Grissom had already processed them, but somehow, Sara needed to see them. She needed to look at this piece of evidence, hoping that it would help her make some sense of all the other, sometimes contradictory, evidence that was mounding up around them.

She could see the void left on the bloody sheets, showing where the girl's body must have been. She could see the wax just like the wax they had found on the girl's wrists. She could see how things must have happened. She just hated to think about it.

Hurrying down the hall, Grissom noticed Sara standing alone in the lay out room. He walked in and saw her staring at the sheets. "Checking my work?"

"Oh, I'm just looking around."

Sara continued to stare at the sheets. She had heard many times about criminalists who did their best work by getting into the mindset of the killer. She always tried to avoid this, feeling that she had spent enough time in the presence of two very violent people for most of her childhood to last a lifetime. In this case, though, she felt that it might be helpful to get into the mind not of the killer, but of the victim.

"What are you thinking?" Grissom asked. Even after years of working together, it never ceased to amaze him how Sara's mind worked.

Sara stepped closer to the sheet, describing the void she had observed, and her theory that the killer had been on top of the girl.

"Which would explain the transfer of wax from him to her," Grissom agreed.

"Yes," Sara said, smiling slightly at the obviousness of their conversation. She looked at Grissom for a moment. "Pin me down," she said thoughtfully.

Grissom complied at once, stepping closer to her and grabbing her raised wrists, holding them as though he would pin her against the sheet. She struggled against him, but he held her firmly in place. She described the victim's struggle for a moment.

"Afterward, when he got up, he put his hands on the sheets for leverage," she concluded.

"Like this," Grissom said.

Sara watched the movement of his hands as he released her wrists and moved them down beside her waist.

"Which explains how the wax got from him to the sheet," he said.

"Yes," Sara said firmly. She turned her head, looking away from his hands and into his eyes.

In a moment, something shifted between them. Only seconds ago, they had been two colleagues discussing a brutal murder; suddenly, she realized that she was trapped in the circle of his arms. She immediately felt uncomfortable, given their recent personal past, but also was reminded of a potential issue in her professional future.

"Grissom, I um …" She lowered her arms and he did the same, allowing her to step away from him, "Wanted to talk to you about something."

Grissom, completely oblivious to what had just happened in her mind, turned to face her, feeling a bit confused. "Go ahead."

Sara took a deep breath. "Well, you know I applied for the promotion to the Key position."

"Your application's on my desk," Grissom nodded.

"About that … I needed to know … I wanted to make sure, rather, that anything that happened, or didn't happen, between us won't be a factor."

Grissom had never been so confused in his life. What on earth was she talking about? What exactly did she think had happened between them? His mind raced through their long and tangled past, wondering if she meant the night that he had touched her cheek before leaving Berkley.

The blank look on his face was enough to convince Sara that he had no idea what she meant – which meant that their past certainly would not be a factor in his review of her application. She suddenly felt extraordinarily embarrassed for even bringing it up.

"Never mind," she said quickly. "I shouldn't have said anything. I'm always over talking around you."

She turned and was gone from the room before Grissom could even catch his breath. He stood still for a long time, staring at the spot where she had been, trying to work out her message.

It all came to him as though in a flash. She was afraid that he would not consider her for the promotion because she had asked him to go to dinner with her.

He shook his head, smiling slightly. How could she not realize by now, after working together for over three years, that he didn't work that way? Their personal lives were completely separate from their professional lives. It was the way he had always worked – the only way he knew how to work. This was the very thing he and Catherine had had such differences over. Despite what Catherine might believe, he knew that he was right. Their personal lives had no business in the lab.

* * *

A week later, Sara felt that enough distance had been put between her and Grissom that they could work together comfortably again. Grissom, for his part, had never felt all that much tension between them. He had noticed Sara looking at him oddly, but had not thought anything of it, and so did not question her about it.

He watched Sara and Nick walk past his office just before the start of their shift. They were both talking and laughing as they went into the locker room. Grissom watched as Nick held the door for Sara, putting his hand on the small of her back to guide her in. Sara did not appear to react to his touch. Grissom wasn't sure if he should take that as a sign that his hand was welcome or not.

He couldn't stop the odd, unidentifiable feeling that coursed though him. He didn't think that it was jealousy … he wasn't exactly jealous of Nick. He knew that Sara and Nick had been great friends ever since she had first come to Vegas, and he knew that their relationship was not unlike the one that he had Catherine shared. Even so, he found himself getting up from his chair and leaving his office to follow them into the locker room with their assignment.

"Nick, Sara, I've got a missing person for you to find," Grissom said, walking into the locker room.

"Child?" Nick asked.

Grissom shook his head. "Showgirl. I want you to get over there now. You know how much time is a factor in cases like these."

"Right," Nick said, taking the slip from him. "Ready, Sara?"

She nodded. "I'll drive."

* * *

Sara had worked plenty of missing persons' cases, but none like this. Within a day, the girl's face had been plastered all over the television as the media focused on her, making her the sweetheart of Las Vegas. Vigils were held for her, and the police department received countless useless tips regarding her whereabouts.

"Hundreds of showgirls in this town, and we have to find the one that everyone cares about," Nick sighed. "Talk about pressure."

Sara smiled. "But, think of how much acclaim we'll get when we find her."

"I just hope we _do_ find her," Nick replied. "Only the people who successfully find missing showgirls get to be heroes. The rest …"

"Don't think like that," Sara said firmly. "We'll find this girl, Nicky. I know it."

* * *

As the poor girl's disappearance swelled into a high-profile, career-making case, Sara and Nick couldn't help but feel excited. They both had applied for the promotion to Key CSI, and were willing to work together on this case to achieve the shared glory that would make them stellar candidates.

Then, as quickly as the prestigious case came their way, it was gone. Catherine pulled rank, stating that as a senior CSI who had somehow managed to build up a rapport with the main suspect, she should be given the case.

To Sara's shock, Grissom sided with Catherine.

Nick took the loss of the case in stride. While he was angry, he did not let it affect his work. He adopted a "there's no 'I' in team" philosophy that made Sara want to scream. She didn't understand how he could be so calm about this.

Even more than that, she couldn't understand how Grissom could do this to her.

* * *

Grissom knew that he had hurt Nick and Sara with his decision. But, as the shift supervisor, he had to make decisions that would hurt someone. His first priority was to solve cases.

It only made sense to let Catherine take the case. As she had said herself, she had more years of experience than Nick and Sara. The suspect – the man they all were certain had taken their showgirl – liked Catherine and seemed more willing to work with her than with anyone else. While Grissom was not comfortable letting Catherine use her appearance or her sexuality to get information out of suspect, it did seem to work in this case. And, in the end, it was all about solving the case. And so the case went to Catherine.

Grissom's job was to make sure that criminals were arrested, not to make sure that Nick and Sara were promoted. In his opinion, the way that they handled this disappointment was more telling than anything they would have done while working the case.

Grissom also knew his team. Catherine was right; they were like a family. Families fought and had their differences, but they always came back together once their anger had passed. He knew that no matter how upset Nick and Sara were, they would forgive him and Catherine in the end.

They always did. They were a team.

* * *

As Grissom had anticipated, all was forgiven and forgotten within a few days. He was careful not to assign Nick and Sara to work with Catherine for about a week, just in case. In no time, they were back to working together, joking together, and going out to eat together. Grissom had to admit that he was relieved. He hated to see his "family" at odds with one another.

"Hey, guys, we've got to get to a scene."

Sara and Warrick put down their lunches and looked up at Catherine.

"We've got a nurse who was killed in her house," she said. "Grissom wants all hands on deck for this one. I'll meet you in the parking lot."

When they arrived at the house, they were stopped at the door by Brass.

"Don't go in," he said.

Catherine frowned. "You haven't cleared the scene yet?"

"It's clear."

Her frown deepened as a look of annoyance crossed her face. "Where's Grissom?"

"Inside. He's doing a walk-through."

"Oh. How long ago did he go in?"

"About five minutes."

Catherine nodded and stepped back. "We're going to have to wait till Grissom's done with the walk-through, guys."

Warrick groaned. "I could have finished my lunch!"

* * *

Grissom followed the path the coroner had pointed out, making his way down the hall. He entered the oversized bathroom and stopped short. The victim was curled up in the shower, her neck slashed and her head turned to face out into the room.

It wasn't the position of the body that stopped him. It was the appearance.

She could have been Sara.

This girl – Debbie Marlin – looked exactly like Sara. It took every bit of willpower he possessed to stop Grissom from pulling out his phone and calling Sara to make sure she was all right. But, no, he knew that she was fine. She had been in the break room when he left, talking with Warrick. She couldn't be this dead body in front of him.

But, somehow, it was like she was.

The fact that this girl looked enough like Sara to be her twin filled Grissom with an obsessive, almost insane, desire to find out what had happened to her. He would find justice for her. He would make sure that someone paid for this tragic crime.

He would not let this killer win. He would not let him steal the life from such a beautiful woman and go on to live his life without facing his guilt.

* * *

Catherine knew in a minute that Grissom's grip on his self-control was tenuous at best. As soon as she saw the look on his face when he walked out of the house, she could see how rattled he was. Something horrible had to have happened in that house to make him look like that.

He assigned Warrick to the victim's car and Sara to the perimeter, making it very clear that only Catherine could accompany him into the house. She did her best to hide her surprise. She had never known Grissom to bar his CSIs from the inside of a house before.

It wasn't until she saw Debbie Marlin that it made sense. This girl could have been Sara's sister. She could have been _Sara_. The resemblance was striking – and it was clearly the reason that Grissom was so shaken.

Catherine sighed. If only he would stop to analyze his feelings, he and Sara could be so much happier. She had always thought that they carried torches for each other; this scene proved that he did feel something for her.

But, as quickly as the thought came to her, she dismissed it. Grissom was not the type to analyze his feelings, or to allow romance into his life. She only hoped that Sara had moved on, because her chances of winning Grissom's heart were slim.

* * *

Grissom did his best to make sure that Sara stayed away from the house. He sent her back to the lab with the task of analyzing pipes and water to try to find useable DNA, while he, Catherine and Warrick remained at the scene. After working for hours, they discovered that not only Debbie Marlin had died; her boyfriend, a doctor at the hospital where she had worked, had been killed as well. Unlike Debbie, his body had not been left in one piece. The killer had cut him into small sections and thrown him out in various trashcans along the street.

When Sara heard about that, she had to admit that she was happier at the lab than piecing a man's body back together after digging him out of ten different trashcans. Even so, she was irritated that Grissom essentially would not allow her to return to the scene. How could she possibly help to solve a crime if she wasn't allowed to see where it had happened?

"Enjoying your time in the lab?"

Sara rolled her eyes at Greg. "Shouldn't you be doing a DNA profile for someone?"

He gave her a cheeky grin. "Grissom's sending me out into the field."

"What?" she gasped.

He nodded proudly. "I'm going to the hospital to do something with the doctors."

"Oh," Sara said, feeling a bit relieved. If Grissom had let Greg go into that house, but not her …

"Jealous?" he asked with the same teasing smile.

"Immensely," she replied, rolling her eyes again.

Greg's smile widened. "I'll tell you all about it when I get back."

"Do," Sara smiled. "I'll be waiting on the edge of my seat."

* * *

It was hours before Sara even saw Debbie Marlin's body. She was sure that she would never get close to the body at all until Catherine called her from the house and asked her to get the victim's toe prints.

Sara went into the morgue and pulled out the drawer holding their victim. She printed her toes, then finally glanced up at her face. She did a double take. _This girl could be _me

As she stared at the still, lifeless face of her double, everything became clear. Grissom's obsessive desire to solve the case, the fact that he had worked three shifts in a row searching for the clue that would make all the difference, all that Catherine had said about forcing him to stop long enough to eat … it all suddenly made sense.

He wasn't trying to solve this case for Debbie. He was trying to solve it for _Sara_.

Her thoughts swirled around like leaves in a stiff breeze. He had mildly flirted with her since the first day they had met. He had turned her down for dinner. He had bought her coffee all those years ago at Berkley. He had never once asked her to go out with him alone since she had come to Vegas. He had shared things with her that even Catherine didn't know. He had never done anything to suggest that he wanted a relationship with her. Everything about her relationship with this man had been a contradiction. How could she make sense of this new, bizarre development? What did his obsession with Debbie Marlin mean to her? To him? To their relationship – whatever that was?

Sara pressed her hands against her eyes, willing her mind to focus. She had to get these prints to Jacqui. She could think about Grissom later.

* * *

As the pieces came together, Grissom found himself in a frightening place. He was inside the mind of the killer.

He could see the parallels between himself and Dr. Lurie, the man they had determined was the one to kill Debbie and her boyfriend. Like Grissom, Dr. Lurie was a middle-aged man. Like Grissom, he had never married. Like Grissom, he had a gorgeous brunette working with him, offering him the chance at love that he was sure would never find its way into his life again.

Unlike Grissom, he took her up on it.

He didn't know what to do when she left him, when she let his fantastic dream crash down around him. And so, he had punished her – and her boyfriend – in the only way that a doctor would find strong enough. He robbed her of her life.

And, now, it was _his_ turn to pay for what he had done.

* * *

As much as she hated to admit it, Sara found herself morbidly interested in this case. Once she realized how much she looked like Debbie Marlin, she was nearly as desperate as Grissom to find out what had happened to her. She wanted this girl's killer behind bars.

Sara made sure she was there to watch as Grissom and Brass interrogated Dr. Lurie. She knew as well as everyone else on the team that he had murdered Debbie Marlin. The problem was that they didn't really have enough evidence to prove it. Hopefully, Grissom and Brass would be able to elicit a confession from him. It didn't seem likely, but if anyone could do it, it would be these two.

They couldn't. Dr. Lurie sat emotionlessly as they described what had happened, and their theories as to how he had committed the crime. Sara felt a cold chill just looking at him from the other side of the glass, safe in the observation room. Even if they were wrong and he was innocent, how could he be so unaffected by the brutal murder of his former girlfriend?

The interview ended and Dr. Lurie and his attorney rose to leave. They were nearly out the door when Grissom spoke in a voice that seemed almost lost.

"It's sad, isn't it, Doc? Guys like us. A couple of middle aged men who've allowed their work to consume their lives. The only time we ever touch other people is when we're wearing our latex gloves. … We wake up one day and realize that for fifty years, we haven't really lived at all. … But, then, all of a sudden … we get a second chance. Somebody young and beautiful shows up, somebody … we could care about. She offers us a new life, with her. But, we have a big decision to make, right? Because, we have to risk everything we've worked for in order to have her. … I couldn't do it. … But you did. You risked it all. And she showed you a wonderful life, didn't she? … But then she took it away and gave it to somebody else. And you were lost. … So, you took her life. … You killed them both … and now you have nothing."

"I'm still here," Lurie said confidently.

"Are you?" Grissom asked in that same lost voice.

Dr. Lurie and his lawyer left, and Grissom's chin dropped to his chest as he exhaled. Sara watched in fascinated horror as he ran his hand over his eyes, barely acknowledging Brass as he walked out of the interrogation room. For one wild minute, fear filled her – what would Brass say if he saw Sara in the observation room? Did he know that Grissom had been talking about Sara? Would he put it together when he saw the look of horror on her face? When he saw the tears in her eyes? But, he walked the other way, leaving her alone to watch as Grissom silently fell apart.

He stayed with his head bowed for another moment, cradling it in his hands. Then, he took a deep breath and looked up, right at the place where Sara was standing. Even though she knew he couldn't see her, she couldn't help but gasp. As he stood up, she backed away. She left the observation room and just stopped herself from running as she left PD. She rushed to her car, and drove back to CSI as quickly as she could.

The last thing she wanted was for Grissom to know what she had heard. If he knew that she knew how he felt … everything between them would end. Their professional relationship and their friendship, strange and twisted though they were, would break. She knew after a break like that, there would be no way in the world to fix them.


	20. A Different Side

A/N: Well, here we go! This is the last chapter in this story. Try not to be so shocked! I'm going to keep going with Grissom and Sara's story, but I wanted to break it down into what I consider to be the phases of their relationship: their meeting pre-Vegas, their time in Vegas when Grissom is oblivious, and their (painfully slow) movement into a relationship.

So, as that suggests, the next story will be a bit more cheerful. I'm still refining the details on that one. I hope to have the first chapter posted next weekend.

Thanks so much for reading, for reviewing, and for your patience with my slow, school-related update schedule. You've been incredible thus far, and I hope you're planning to continue the journey with me in the next story!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration is provided by episodes 415, "Early Rollout," 422, "No More Bets," and 423, "Bloodlines." Some dialogue is also taken from episode 422.

* * *

_A Different Side_

"Hello?"

Sara sighed, a bit disappointed at the voice that answered the phone. "Hi, Tom," she said. "It's Sara. How are you?"

"Sara!" he exclaimed delightedly. "How are you, sweetheart?"

"I'm … is Mary there?"

"Yeah," Tom said, the concern obvious in his voice. "Are you all right, Sara?"

"I'm fine," Sara said. "I just need to talk to Mary."

"No problem. Here she is."

Muffled sounds reached her ears. Sara was sure that Tom had covered the mouthpiece of the phone as he handed it off. A moment later, her best friend's voice came across the line.

"Sara? What's wrong?"

Sara burst into tears.

"Oh, Sara," Mary said, shocked that her friend was falling apart like this. "Please, sweetie, tell me what's wrong."

"Everything," Sara sobbed.

"You're going to have to be a bit more specific."

Sara laughed through her tears. "Can't you just let me be miserable?"

"Not unless you can calm down enough to tell me why you're miserable."

Sara took a deep breath, trying to get herself under control. "We had a strange case."

"Okay …" Mary said slowly. It had been a long time since Sara had lost control over a case.

"The victim … she was murdered in her shower." She paused to take a breath. "She looked just like me, Mar."

"She was your doppelganger?"

"Yeah. It was freaky, actually. Grissom wouldn't let me see the body at all. If it weren't for Catherine, I'm sure I never would have seen her. She asked me to get her toe prints once she was in the morgue." Another pause. "It was like I was seeing _myself_ in the morgue."

"Oh, Sara. It must have been terrible to see her like that."

"It was really, really strange," Sara admitted.

"Being confronted with your own mortality can be tough," Mary acknowledged.

"Being … no, Mar, that's not what …"

"Tell me," Mary prompted gently.

Sara took a deep breath. "Grissom … it was like he was possessed. He worked something like twenty-six hours straight on this one. I've never seen him like that. He wouldn't leave the girl's house, he wouldn't eat … Catherine was the only one he'd let go to the house to help him. He made me stay at the lab."

"That must have been frustrating."

"Yeah," she agreed. "It wasn't until I saw Debbie … her name was Debbie … that I understood. He was trying to spare me."

"That was nice of him."

"He wanted to solve this for _me_," Sara said bluntly. "It wasn't about Debbie … not really. It was about me. He was totally freaked out after seeing someone who looked just like me with her throat slashed."

Mary exhaled slowly. "What are you saying, Sara? That you think that he's in love with you?"

"No," Sara said slowly, "but he could be. And he knows it. He said …"

Mary couldn't keep the shock out of her voice. "He told you that he could fall in love with you?"

"No. He … I need a minute, or you're not going to understand this thing at all."

"Okay," Mary said, completely confused.

Sara took a deep breath and began to talk. "Grissom interrogated the suspect. The guy who did this – he's a doctor at the same hospital where Debbie was a nurse. They worked together. He's about Grissom's age. He … they dated for awhile. But, Debbie broke up with him and started dating another doctor, a younger doctor. He couldn't take it, and he killed both of them."

Mary shivered. "Sara …"

"We don't have enough evidence to convict him. But, we all know what happened. He just won't admit to it." She paused yet again. "I watched the interrogation from the observation room. No one knew I was there."

"Okay …"

"Griss … he admitted a lot of stuff to this guy."

"What do you mean?"

"He …" Sara swallowed, fighting back more tears. "Grissom told Dr. Lurie that he knows what happened because they're the same. They're both middle aged men who are married to their careers. They both had a chance at love with …" She trailed off and swallowed again.

"With someone like you," Mary supplied softly.

"Yeah. And he … Grissom said that he couldn't do it. That he couldn't risk everything to let himself fall in love with me." She gave up fighting and let the tears slide down her cheeks. "Why, Mary? Why doesn't he think that I'm worth the risk?"

"Sara, stop that," Mary said, sounding a bit harsh for the first time since taking the phone from her husband. "You _are_ worth it."

"To whom?" Sara asked tearfully. "Not to Hank. He wasn't about to leave his girlfriend for me. Not to Jason senior year. He cheated on me, remember? Not to Evan freshman year. He broke up with me because he didn't want to be 'tied down.' Face it, Mary. Guys don't want me."

"_Asses_ don't want you, Sara. And you don't want them, so get over that idea right now."

"Grissom isn't an ass," she said quietly.

Mary sighed, thinking that that was a matter of opinion.

"He's not," Sara insisted, knowing what was going through Mary's mind.

"Sara, he's been jerking you around for years," Mary said, finally feeling free to articulate the opinion she had held since Sara had moved to Vegas. "Don't you see it? He does something to make you think he's interested, then backs off to the point that you've had your heart broken again."

"He doesn't –"

"He _does_," Mary said. "If he didn't, you wouldn't be on the phone with me right now, sobbing over the fact that he had told some murderer that he wasn't willing to risk … whatever … to be with you."

Sara's tears began to fall faster. "How can I face him? How can I ever go to work again?"

"Don't," Mary said simply. "You're an amazing CSI, Sara. Find a new job in a new lab."

"No," Sara said, sounding stronger than she had at any point during their conversation. "I won't let him scare me away. I love my job. I love Catherine and the guys. I love this city. I'm not going to leave because …"

"Okay, then," Mary said, a bit relieved that her tough love had worked so well. "You just need to take a hot shower, have a glass of wine, get a good night's sleep and go back to work ready to solve more crimes."

Sara smiled in spite of herself. "Can I have two glasses of wine?"

Mary grinned. "Wino."

"Maybe." Sara sighed. "Thank you, Mary."

Mary smiled sadly. "I just wish I could be there to drink that wine with you."

Another tear slipped from Sara's eye. "Me, too."

"Are you going to be all right?"

"Eventually," Sara said, wiping at the tears that continued to fall.

"Okay," Mary said, the concern still obvious in her voice. "Call me when you get off work tomorrow, okay?"

"I will."

"All right."

"Mary?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

Mary smiled. "I love you, too."

* * *

Sara took Mary's advice. She took a hot shower, drank a glass of white wine and collapsed into bed. Sleep was hard to come by, but that didn't really surprise her. She had gone without sleep before, and was sure that lying under the warm blankets would be good enough yet again.

The next day, she would walk into the lab ready to face whatever life threw at her. Even Grissom.

* * *

Until she saw him.

Pain, longing, sorrow, joy, regret, hope … a thousand emotions ran through her as she and Grissom walked down the hall on a collision course. She took a deep breath, trying to get herself under control before they were close enough to speak to one another.

He smiled as he drew closer to her. She could see it even from a short distance, but was incapable of responding in kind. As soon as they made eye contact in the hall, her face turned bright red. If he noticed, he chose not to comment. Despite all the other feelings swirling around inside her, she was grateful for that. At least she could still count on him to be a gentleman.

"Hello, Sara," he smiled.

"Hi," she said in what she hoped was a normal voice.

"I'm sending you and Warrick out into the field," he said. He gave her a guilty, apologetic smile. "Rangers just found a missing hiker in the woods. He's been out there for about a week."

Sara made a face. "Thanks, Griss."

He smiled again. "Take Greg with you. I think it'll be a good experience for him."

Sara couldn't help but laugh, finally managing to break free of the melancholy that threatened to pull her under. Sometimes, Grissom was so much like Carl that it scared her. At the moment, she was extremely thankful for this little reminder of her first CSI supervisor. "All right. We'll take Greg."

* * *

"So, where exactly are we going?" Greg asked a bit nervously, adjusting his newly-acquired field vest.

"Into the woods," Warrick replied. He grinned at Sara. "Not scared, are you?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "No."

"Oh," Sara grinned, "are you trying to tell us that you're the outdoorsy type?"

"I'll have you know that I've played in many an outdoor chess tourney," Greg replied.

Sara and Warrick both laughed.

"Tell me you're joking," Warrick said.

"No," Greg grinned. "Try not to be jealous."

"I'll do my best," Warrick said.

"Hi."

They all turned to their right, noticing the park ranger who was waiting for them.

"Hi," Sara said.

"Are you CSI?"

"Yes," she replied. "I'm Sara Sidle, this is Warrick Brown, and this is Greg Sanders."

The man nodded. "Derek Parker," he said. "Your body is just over there."

They looked to where he pointed and started off again.

"Why aren't the police here?" Greg asked.

"We don't know for sure that this is a crime scene yet," Warrick replied. "There's nothing for them to clear." He stopped dead in his tracks, looking down over a creek bank at the decomposing body that was lying alongside the rushing water. "Oh, man. Looks like we found our hiker."

Sara coughed. "Yeah, I'd say we did."

Greg's eyes practically bugged out at the sight of the body. "What happened to him?"

"The elements," Warrick said grimly.

Greg swallowed hard. "What do you want me to do?"

"Help me look for evidence leading to or away from the body," Sara said at once.

Warrick gave her a murderous look. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather process Mr. Worms for Eyes?"

"Oh, no," she grinned. "I think we'll leave him for you."

* * *

Their hiker case was full of twists and turns, and took over a week to solve. Sara was glad. It meant plenty of time spent in the field and interrogating suspects, which translated into less time with Grissom.

But, as with all good things, the case eventually came to an end as the man's hiking partner was revealed to be the guilty party. Sara sighed as she went home after her last shift spent working on the case. She hoped that the next day would bring her another case with Warrick, Nick, Catherine … anyone but Grissom.

She entered her apartment and dropped her purse and keys on a chair. Knowing that she was too keyed up to sleep, she went to the fridge and pulled out a beer. She sank down onto the couch with her drink and began flipping channels.

She was on her third beer and watching the local morning news when her cell phone rang. She picked it up, groaning when she saw Grissom's name displayed on the caller ID.

"Sidle."

"Sara, I'm really sorry," he said by way of greeting. "You weren't sleeping, were you?"

"No," she said quite honestly.

"Good," he said, sounding a bit relieved. "I need you to come in for a case. One of the big casino owners and his wife were both shot in their palatial driveway this morning."

Sara groaned. "All right. What's the address?"

He gave it to her, glad that she was so willing to come in to work. "Just so you know, I'm calling everyone in. You're not the only one I want to make suffer."

Sara smiled sadly. Unfortunately, she seemed to be the one he made suffer the most. "Thanks. I'll see you in a little bit."

"Thank you," Grissom replied. "Take your time – these two aren't going anywhere."

Sara smiled. "I'll be there soon," she promised.

"See you then," Grissom said. "Bye."

"Bye."

Sara flipped her phone shut and looked at the half empty bottle in her hand. She sighed. She knew that she wasn't drunk, but it was going to take some work to cover the smell of alcohol on her breath.

* * *

In the end, brushing her teeth five times and popping cough drops at the scene were the best she could do to cover the smell. She spent most of the day with Nick and Brass. Nick, always determined to see the best in everyone and to shy away from anything that would disrupt his sunshiny view of the world, was blissfully oblivious as to why Sara spent most of the day sucking on cough drops. He was a little irritated that she wasn't willing to share, but that was as intense as his observation got.

Brass, however, was a different story. He knew in an instant what Sara was trying to do with her cough drops. He had already fought his battle with alcohol, and was terrified to see Sara do the same. He confronted her, in the gentlest way she could ever imagine, telling her something about there being more problems than solutions at the bottom of a bottle. While she loved him for his caring, she couldn't help but wonder if he would ever believe that she didn't have a drinking problem. The fear of his disappointment made her swear to herself that she would never drink before work again – even if it was hours before she had to start her shift.

* * *

Nick won the promotion.

Almost.

It had been so long since they had applied for it that Sara had nearly forgotten about the Key CSI position. It wasn't until she walked into the locker room and found Nick reading the letter stating that he had been nominated for the position that it all came back to her.

She felt like the bottom had fallen out of her stomach, but she forced herself to smile and congratulate her friend. Nick smiled, knowing the intense disappointment that she felt.

"That's not necessary," he said. "The position was cut."

He kept talking about the budget issues and the way the money would be spent. Sara forced herself to focus, agreeing that Greg would be thrilled with the new lab equipment that they would have in place of the Key position.

She thought that she was doing fine until he said that it was an honor to be nominated as he left the room. Clinging to her composure by a thread, she wondered what she had done to lose the nomination.

* * *

An angry phone call to Mary seemed in order. Sara was glad for the three hour time difference; on the east coast, it wasn't obscenely early when she got off work. She called Mary on the way home.

"Hello?"

"Nick got the promotion," Sara said by way of greeting.

"Oh, no," Mary said. "I'm sorry."

"Well, he didn't really get it."

"Okay, now I'm confused."

Sara took a deep breath, willing herself to make sense while she talked. "The position was cut. They're spending the money on some new lab toy for Greg. But, Nick was nominated for the promotion. Over me."

"I'm sorry," Mary said again. "I know you really wanted it."

"Yeah, apparently, that's the reason I didn't get it."

"What?"

"I asked Grissom why he nominated Nick instead of me. He said it had nothing to do with our twisted past. It's because it didn't matter to Nick if he got it or not."

"That makes absolutely no sense."

"I know!" Sara yelled. "What the hell? Why not give it to the person who really wants it? The person who cares about it?" _The person who cares about _you

"I guess all we learned in college is true."

"What?" Sara asked distractedly, thinking that Mary's comment made about as much sense as Grissom's decision to nominate Nick for the promotion.

"The most brilliant minds have a complete lack of common sense." Mary paused and smiled. "Don't you remember that philosophy professor?"

Sara laughed in spite of herself. "Oh, the clothes!"

"We were happy when the TA took over for many a reason," Mary laughed.

"Not the least of which was that he was hot," Sara grinned. She laughed again. "Man, Mar, I'm sorry. Every time I call you, I'm in the middle of some emotional crisis."

"Don't apologize for that," Mary said. "That's what friends are for. Helping one another through emotional crises."

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Sara sighed.

"You'd make it," Mary said. "You're tough. Tough enough to congratulate Nick like you mean it."

"Yeah, you're right," Sara said. "I'll be the bigger person."

"Good choice."

* * *

"Hey, Sara, wanna come out for a drink with me and Nicky?"

Sara looked up from her locker to see Warrick's hopeful smile. "Sure. What's the occasion?"

"Drinking," he grinned.

Sara laughed. "Let's go!"

As always, they ended up at their favorite neighborhood bar. They weren't such regulars that everyone knew them, but they did get smiles of recognition as they walked in. They found a table and ordered beers.

"So, no hot dates tonight?" Sara teased as she took a sip of her drink.

"You're a hot date," Nick teased, putting his arm across the back of her chair.

Sara laughed. "What about Warrick?"

"Third wheel," Nick said promptly. "He's our lame friend who couldn't find a date."

"My planner is quite full, thank you," Warrick said. "Unlike _someone_ I know." He glared at Nick.

Sara laughed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't tease. It's not like I'm Miss Social Butterfly." She smiled. "Really, I'm just excited to be out with you guys."

"Well, we're glad you came, too," Nick smiled.

"Definitely," Warrick said. "The three of us haven't been out in a couple of weeks."

"And that's just a shame," Nick said. "We need to have a designated drinking night."

"Yeah, we can do that with our schedules," Sara laughed. "Let's just promise to go out once a week. We can leave the night up in the air."

"Good plan," Warrick agreed.

"I'm in," Nick said. "Should we invite the others?"

"Maybe Greg," Sara mused, cocking her head to the side. "He was a real trouper with that hiker."

"He was," Warrick agreed. "I think he's really serious about this CSI thing."

"Good for him," Nick smiled. "He'll be fun out in the field."

"As long as Grissom doesn't get a hold of him," Sara laughed. "He'd have a fit over some of the comments that Greg makes."

"He'd know better than to say that kind of stuff in front of Griss, wouldn't he?" Warrick asked.

"I don't know …"

"What did he say?" Nick asked.

Warrick grinned. "You know. Typical Greg stuff."

Nick shrugged. "If Grissom can handle it in the lab, he can handle it in the field."

"I hope so," Sara said. "If not, poor Greg's never going to pass his proficiency."

* * *

They stayed out for several hours, drinking, laughing and talking. Sara loved every minute of the time spent with the guys. She spent so much time on the phone with Mary that she had almost forgotten that she had such wonderful friends in Vegas.

They finally left the bar and started back toward their cars. Warrick suggested stopping for food, but Sara and Nick both turned him down. After as many hours as she had worked and spending so much time out, Sara was exhausted. She could only think of getting home and collapsing into bed.

Warrick split off and headed toward his car, and Sara grabbed Nick's arm.

"Hey, hey, Nick, congratulations on your almost-promotion," she said. "Seriously, you deserve it."

Nick grinned at her. "Wow, that's really hard for you, isn't it?"

Sara smiled and gave him a playful shove. "Yeah, it is," she acknowledged.

Nick was still laughing as they separated to go to their cars.

Sara climbed into her car and started the engine. She watched as the lights came on, wishing that she were already home in bed. She sighed and turned on the radio, turning it up as high as she could stand. She hoped that the loud music would keep her alert during the drive home.

She was halfway home when she saw flashing lights in her mirror. Her first confused thought was that the police had come to escort her to a crime scene. She pulled over, wondering why Grissom hadn't just called her.

A police officer – one she knew by sight but couldn't put a name to – tapped against her window. She rolled it down.

"Do you need me at a crime scene?" she asked.

He frowned in confusion for a moment, then recognition passed through his eyes. "You're a CSI, aren't you?"

"Sara Sidle," she said. "Did Grissom send you to find me?"

"Um … no …"

"What's going on?" she asked in confusion.

"You … you were driving a bit erratically," he said with an apologetic note to his voice. "I need to see your license and registration, and I need you to step out of the car, please."

Still completely confused, Sara handed over the documentation and climbed out of her car. "Driving erratically?" she asked.

He looked at her closely. "Have you been drinking, Ms. Sidle?"

"A bit," she admitted. Her eyes widened. "I'm not drunk," she said. "I'm fine to drive, or I never would have tried! I was just working way too many hours, I'm tired …"

"I need to you blow into this," he said.

Her face flushing with shame, Sara submitted to a field sobriety test. The police officer truly looked like he felt sorry for her as he read the machine.

"You're over the legal limit," he said quietly.

"What?" Sara exclaimed. "How is that possible? I only had a few beers! Over a few hours!"

"Did you eat anything?"

She could have slapped herself upside the head. "No."

"Maybe you should have." He grimaced. "Look, you blew .09 and the limit was _just_ lowered to .08. A few weeks ago, you would have been legal. I'll cut you a break. I won't cite you. I'll just take you back to PD … but, I'll have to notify your supervisor."

Sara's face turned even redder. "You have to tell Grissom?" she almost whispered.

"I'm sorry," the cop said. "I wish there was another way. But, the only alternative is to cite you, and …"

"No, this is better," she said quickly. "Thank you, officer."

He smiled sadly. "You're welcome."

* * *

Sara sat in the waiting room in the police department for what felt like forever. The kind cop who had pulled her over had made her leave her car and ride back with him. Once they arrived at the station, he directed her to the waiting area while he called Grissom. He had returned only once, to tell her that Grissom was coming for her.

Sara felt that she died a thousand deaths of shame while she waited for him. She couldn't believe that she had been so stupid. Why hadn't she just gone for food when Warrick suggested it? Why hadn't she just called a cab? She knew that she was too tired to drive home. She was sure that any "erratic" driving was more related to exhaustion than anything else.

After what seemed like years, Grissom appeared. He came into the waiting room and sat down next to Sara. She knew it was him, but she couldn't turn to look at him. She couldn't face him.

He reached out and took her hand, gently squeezing it as if to tell her that she wasn't alone. She returned the pressure, trying to stop the butterflies that suddenly appeared in her stomach. _This is not sexual. Don't try to make it into something it's not._

"Come on," he said gently, "I'll take you home."

They barely spoke on the way back to Sara's apartment. She wasn't ready to tell him what had happened. He seemed to sense that, and didn't try to draw her out. Their only conversation was limited to directions to the apartment complex.

Grissom parked on the street and turned off the engine. He looked at Sara a bit apprehensively.

"Come in with me," she sighed. "I know we need to talk."

He nodded, and they both climbed out of the car.

Grissom followed Sara up the stairs to her third floor apartment. She unlocked the door and walked in, knowing that he would follow her. He did; securely closing the door behind him. He watched as she kept walking all the way into the small apartment until she reached the window in the living room. It looked out over the complex garden, but, in the darkness, she couldn't see it.

"You're going to fire me, aren't you?" she asked without turning around.

"Will you tell me what happened?" Grissom asked rather than answering her question.

Sara sighed. "I was too tired, I drank too much and I decided to drive myself home. It was stupid."

"I think there might be more to it than that," Grissom said gently, moving forward to stand about a foot behind her.

Sara sighed. "I went out with Nick and Warrick after shift. We do that sometimes."

Grissom nodded. "I know."

"We hit a bar near the lab – you know, that one we always go to. Warrick suggested getting something to eat after we left, but Nick and I both wanted to go home. So, we got back to where we had parked, and we split up."

Grissom felt a strange surge of anger that neither Warrick nor Nick had walked Sara to her car.

"I thought I might be tipsy," she admitted. "But, I was so tired … I didn't think it was the alcohol that made me feel like that. I just … I wanted to go home. That's all. I wanted to go home and take a shower and go to sleep. I thought I could drive, I really did."

Grissom sighed. "Sara …"

"I know it was stupid," she said, finally turning around to face him. "You don't have to remind me. And, now, I've lost my job, haven't I?"

Grissom shook his head. "No."

Sara's eyebrows shot up.

"If you had actually been cited, I would have had no choice," he said slowly. "You know that, don't you? You owe your job to the PD."

She nodded.

"Because they didn't cite you, your fate is in my hands."

She raised an eyebrow. "And? What is my fate?"

"You're going to use all three weeks of vacation that you have saved," Grissom said. "You are going to see a PEAP counselor. You are going to follow that counselor's advice when you come back to work."

She nodded, noting for the first time that he wasn't really reprimanding her. He looked … like he was worried about her. Like he wanted to help her. She looked straight into his blue eyes, shocked by the tenderness she found there. That tenderness nearly broke her resolve not to cry. Unable to face him, she looked away, staring at a point over his shoulder, willing the tears to fade from her eyes.

He watched her, knowing that she was fighting for control. He had seen her cry before over cases – _and_, he reminded himself, _when_ _we_ _said good bye at Berkley_ – but never over something like this. He had never seen this side of her. It was sweet, in a way. As she slowly fell apart in front of him, he suddenly saw her completely differently. She wasn't the student who spent hours studying – _trying to impress me_ – or the CSI whose determination to speak for the victims was all-consuming. She was open in front of him, the layers of her defensive walls peeling away. She was vulnerable. She needed someone to lean on, someone to protect her. And, suddenly, he wanted to be that someone. He wanted to be her rock. He wanted to be the one she could turn to with her problems. He wanted to be the one who took care of her.

"I have one more condition to add."

She finally forced herself to look at him. "All right. Name it."

He paused and licked his lips. "You are going to talk to me from now on. If you have a problem that you can't deal with, you need to let me help you."

She smiled sadly. "You're my boss, Grissom. You shouldn't have to deal with my problems."

He shook his head and touched her cheek. "I'm your friend, Sara. I was your friend long before I was your supervisor, and I will always be your friend."

She couldn't stop herself from closing her eyes and leaning into his touch, thinking that he had been a pretty lousy friend recently. But, at this point, she was willing to take whatever he would offer.

"In a way, this is my fault," he said softly.

She opened her eyes. "What? Why would you say that?"

He smiled sadly. "I'm the one who has always told you to socialize and find something to do outside of work."

She gave him a wry smile. "You didn't tell me to drink and drive, Griss."

"No," he acknowledged. "And, truthfully, I was thrilled to know that you, Nick and Warrick had become such good friends. It means a lot to me as a supervisor to see my team bonding like that."

"As a supervisor?" she repeated, a bit disappointed.

He bit his lip. "Sara …"

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have said that. I know what our relationship is. You've made that very clear."

He wanted to cry at her words. She was right, of course. He had been pushing her away for years, even though it had been his offer that had brought her to Vegas in the first place. "I haven't been a good friend to you, Sara," he said slowly. "But, if you're willing to give me another chance, I'd like to change that."

A true, genuine smile lit her face as the meaning of his words sank in. "Of course I'll give you a chance," she said.

He suddenly felt lighter. It was as though she had handed him a new lease on life. "Thank you," he said, feeling a goofy grin stretch across his face.

She smiled and took his hand in hers. "Just don't waste it," she cautioned.

"No," he said. "I'll never do that again." He squeezed her hand gently, feeling and squashing the insane desire to kiss her cheek. "I should probably let you get some sleep. You said that you're exhausted."

Sara wanted to protest, but knew that she didn't have the strength to entertain a guest for much longer. "I am," she admitted.

He nodded. "Well, you'll have plenty of time to sleep. Your vacation is effective immediately."

"I was afraid you'd say that," she sighed.

"I think you need the time." He touched her cheek again. "Sara … take care of yourself."

"I will," she promised.

"Good. I'll see you in three weeks, then."

She nodded with a falsely bright smile, wondering how she would possibly be able to stay away from work – away from _him_ – for three weeks.

He stepped back, and she walked with him to the door. He opened it and looked at her.

"Good luck," he said simply.

"Thanks," she replied.

He smiled. "Good night, Sara."

"Good night, Griss." She paused. "Thank you. For everything."

He smiled gently, knowing what she meant. "You're welcome."

He walked out the door, taking a deep, calming breath. He had left Sara so many times. After sharing coffee after class. After finishing his seminar at Berkley. After spending a beautiful evening with her in San Francisco. After solving a case. After processing a scene. After getting DNA results from Greg. After handing out assignments. At the end of a shift. After a night out or breakfast in the lab with the team.

But, somehow, after all the large and small good byes they had shared, none of them hit him the way that this one did. It was as though he wasn't just saying good night to Sara. He was saying good bye to a way of thinking.

He was saying good bye to his old way of life.

* * *

Sara closed the door behind him and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes again, and walked across the room to sink down on her couch.

During the short amount of time that he had spent in her apartment, Sara knew that something had changed between her and Grissom. Their relationship had been completely altered, and, somehow, she knew that after tonight, there was no going back.

For the first time, she knew, she really, truly _knew_, that they would be okay.

_Fin_


End file.
